


Mind Reader

by jopling



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 40,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7824871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jopling/pseuds/jopling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Iwaizumi is knocked out by a volleyball to the face, he discovers he can now see what people are thinking.</p><p>Alternatively: Iwaizumi can now read minds but he still can’t pick up on Oikawa’s feelings for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a short break from writing my other iwaoi fic because this wouldn't leave my mind. 
> 
> This is partly crack ("Yerrr a mind-reader, Iwaizumi!" came to my head a couple of times and I had a long internal debate whether to make that the fic summary), so no, it won't have any deep dive of discovery and learning into this ability, how and why he has it, or exploration of the magical world, etc. Just take it as it is and enjoy, I guess? :P

 

– – –

 

When Oikawa found out Ushijima was going to the same university he was going to, he crossed the street from his house, raced to Iwaizumi’s, barged through the front door, kicked off his shoes, bound up their staircase – shouting his apology to Iwaizumi’s mom for the noise on his way up – and practically kicked down Iwaizumi’s bedroom door.

 

Iwaizumi, who had been in the middle of the final part of a two hour sniper mission on his Playstation, jumped, accidentally pressed the shoot button, misfired his shot, and subsequently failed the mission.

 

He whipped around to face the door.

 

“Oikawa, what the hell – “

 

_“Ushijima and I are going to be teammates!”_

 

Iwaizumi just stared as Oikawa crossed the room to his bed, flopped his entire weight on it and grabbed one of the pillows to mash his face against, muffling the anguished cry he let out. When he finally lifted his head from the pillow, he groaned and flopped onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

 

“Why is this happening to me?” he asked out loud, begging for an answer from the universe. “First, my supposedly _best friend_ doesn’t even _care_ that we won’t be in the same school, and now I’m going to have to play setter for Ushiwaka!”

 

He let out a whimper and clutched Iwaizumi’s pillow to his chest.

 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and turned back to his game, starting his mission all over again. “You’re being dramatic again.”

 

Oikawa flipped onto his stomach, tucking Iwaizumi’s pillow beneath him so he could rest his chin on it and give the full pout effect to his best friend.

                                                                                                                                              

“There’s still some time for you to request to transfer schools,” he mumbled against the pillow.

 

Iwaizumi didn’t even bother to take his eyes off his game. “We talked about this – there’s no point. They didn’t offer me a spot in the team,” he said, his head moving left and right to watch his player on the screen. “And I’m happy with where I’m going anyway.”

 

“And that’s it? You’re just going to just accept the no?”

 

Iwaizumi sighed. He recognized that tone. He finally paused his game. They had gone through this talk so many times, he didn’t know why Oikawa still picked at the issue like he could change the outcome if he argued about it again. The fact was, Tokyo University, the champion school in the college league had offered Oikawa a spot in their team, but not to Iwaizumi. Although he had been scouted by the second placed team in the league, and coincidentally, the universities were long-time rivals.

 

Sure, there was a bit of disappointment, but overall, Iwaizumi didn’t feel all that bad about not getting an offer from Tokyo University. He had long accepted, even when they were kids and he had been the first one to get into volleyball – he had only dragged Oikawa into it because he needed someone to practice with – that Oikawa had far surpassed him and most people their age in terms of skill and talent. He was a level above all of them, and this was something Iwaizumi had accepted, and was proud of, and constantly tried to remind Oikawa about. So he wasn’t surprised when Oikawa got offered a spot from and he didn’t. And he also wasn’t surprised that Ushijima got an offer too.

 

He turned to Oikawa. “Why are you so upset about this?” he asked, his voice slow and patient, like talking to a child. Which Oikawa was, most of the time. “It’s not like we won’t be rid of each other – we’re sharing an apartment anyway.”

 

At this, Oikawa turned his eyes from his best friend, burying his face deeper into the pillow so that Iwaizumi could only see a hint of the redness high on his cheeks and the back of his neck. Iwaizumi huffed and turned back to his game.

 

“Well, you know,” Oikawa said, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow. “I’m just worried Iwa-chan won’t have any friends without me and will be all alone in school.”

 

“Really,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, easily shooting down one of the enemy soldiers in his game.

 

“Yeah, you’ll probably scare everyone off during orientation with those eyebrows and outdated haircut of yours.”

 

“Well,” Iwaizumi started. “At least I’ll be free of you during school and you’ll find some other poor, unfortunate person to bug for most of the day.”

 

Oikawa lifted his head from his pillow and scoffed. “Hmph! I’m pretty sure there’ll be even more girls after me without you there to scare them off all the time with your face.”

 

Iwaizumi laughed. “Well, maybe I’ll finally be able to get a nice girlfriend without you there to flirt with every girl all the time.”

 

After saying it, Iwaizumi realized it was hardly an insult. In fact, it was kind of like a backwards compliment to Oikawa. Besides being better than him in volleyball, he had also come to accept that Oikawa, despite his horrible personality, unfortunately also possessed physical traits that most people in society found attractive and appealing. He had come to accept over the years that most girls weren’t going to give him a second glance with Oikawa beside him, and for the ones that did, Oikawa was always somehow there to flirt them back to his side like he was intentionally keeping them all to himself.

 

“He’s the worst wingman,” Makki had once said during the time they had invited girls from their class to watch a movie with them and they all just ended up fighting over who would sit next to Oikawa. “The anti-wingman. If you ever want the girl you like to leave you, bring him along.”

 

And that was exactly what happened to Iwaizumi. He had invited Midori, the girl sitting two rows ahead of him in his math class, and he could only watch as she joined the other girls fawning and arguing over seating arrangements. And of course she ended up being the one Oikawa chose out of all of them to take the seat beside him and share his popcorn with.

 

Mattsun had glared at Iwaizumi, and with a deathly serious tone of his voice, said, “Never bring him along ever again.”

 

Iwaizumi was chuckling at the memory when he realized Oikawa had fallen silent. He took a quick glance at his friend, and was surprised to see that Oikawa was watching him, his eyes with an unreadable glint to them, and worrying his bottom lip like he wanted to say something else but was stopping himself.

 

“So, did I win this round with that?” Iwaizumi asked, turning back to his game.

 

After a few seconds, Oikawa looked away, and pressed his warm cheek against Iwaizumi’s cool pillow. “You’re so stupid, Iwa-chan,” he mumbled. “Sometimes I really, really hate you.”

 

Iwaizumi scoffed. “Not as much as you’ll hate having Ushijima as your team mate.”

 

With that, he got a pillow to the face, misfired his shot once more, and failed his mission _again_.

 

– – –

 

Oddly enough, it’s in the middle of a game between his university and Oikawa’s that the memory pops in Iwaizumi’s mind. He’s sitting by the bench, taking a few minutes off as his coach lets the second string players get a chance to experience playing against their university rivals. While only a practice game, it’s the first time their universities are facing each other this season, so it feels like a regular game; the tension in the gym is high as each team holds their breath to see who will draw first blood this season.

 

From his seat, he gets a good view of Tokyo University’s team, and while he recognizes some of the other players, there’s Kuroo from Nekoma, a few people from Shiratorizawa and Fukurodani, he’s only really paying attention to the duo who’ve been unstoppable for most of the game – Oikawa and Ushijima.

 

His mind thinks back at how Oikawa swore that he’d never set for Ushijima, yet watching them now, he can’t imagine a more in-sync pair. They’ve only been in the same team for a few months, and Oikawa complains about Ushijima non-stop whenever he gets home from practice, yet they play like a well-oiled machine running on years of experience and honed skill. Oikawa doesn’t even have to say anything – mostly because he refuses to talk to Ushijima for more than necessary – and Ushijima is there to spike his set, or Oikawa knows exactly where Ushijima will jump and perfectly sends the ball to that direction.

 

Iwaizumi would have been more than happy to just watch and learn from the way the two were playing, if only he wasn’t at the other side of the court and it wasn’t his team that was at the receiving end of their killer spikes or accurate sets.

 

There’s a whistle and Iwaizumi looks up to see his coach motioning for him. It’s near the end of the first set and the score is 25-24, in their team’s favor.

 

“Get in there,” his coach says, giving him a pat on the back as takes the card from his teammate and subs in.

 

As he gets on the court, he can’t help but glance at Oikawa, and from the way Oikawa is looking intently at his perfectly tied shoes and not at the other side of the court, he knows Oikawa is intentionally not looking at him, and has been doing so for the entire game. Oikawa has always had hawk-like focus during games, staring down every member of the opposing team, most especially during tense, high-stake moments like now, so it’s easy for Iwaizumi to conclude that Oikawa is affected by the fact that this is their first game against each other since… well, for the first time in their lives.

 

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Iwaizumi had said a week ago, when he found out about the practice game.

 

“I know, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa had said, brushing him off with fake nonchalance. He poked his Chinese takeout with his chopsticks. “It’s just a practice game anyway.”

 

“Even when it becomes an actual game,” Iwaizumi had pressed, because he knew it would be one day and Oikawa was going to drop the issue unless he held onto it. “There’s other things besides volleyball.”

 

But despite saying it, even he couldn’t help but think about how he hated losing, and how there would be a bit of a sting if it’s a loss aided by a close friend. He noticed how his interactions with Oikawa were shorter and more subdued as the game drew nearer, and he had just let them be, telling himself things would smooth over after the game, regardless of the outcome.

 

The whistle blows, and Iwaizumi snaps back to the game. The serve soars over the net and it’s easily received by his team’s libero. Iwaizumi runs to position as he watches it fly to their setter, and when he gets to his mark, he jumps, the blocker in front of him doing the same. He pulls his arm back, his eyes never leaving the ball as it rushes toward him, and with a swift hit, he spikes it over the net. It glances against the blocker’s hand. He sees the fingers shake at impact, and the ball drastically changes direction – only to be picked up by Tokyo University’s libero who sails to the other end of the court after saving it with an outstretched arm.

 

“Shit,” Iwaizumi curses to himself as his feet land back on the ground, watching the ball soar up in the air.

 

At the corner of his eye he sees Oikawa rushing towards the ball’s landing point and Iwaizumi follows him. Since Oikawa’s too far away he’s not going to have time to get underneath the ball properly to be able to set it far from him – but then Oikawa leaps off the ground, making up for the distance, and his fingers perfectly catch the ball, and suddenly the ball is flying to the other end of the court – where Ushijima is, right in front of the spot Iwaizumi had just left open.

 

“Cover!” their captain yells, and Iwaizumi jerks to a stop. He races back to his position, swearing at himself for falling for the feint. Sawamura, who was in the back row position behind him steps up to cover the area, leaps in time with Ushijima, his arms forming a perfect wall in front of the spiker. From below, it’s easy for Iwaizumi to see the split-second decision Ushijima makes to divert the ball away from the wall to the empty gap beside Sawamura where Iwaizumi is closing the distance on.

 

Iwaizumi knows that Ushijima is one of the most accurate wing spikers in the country. He knows Ushijima’s spikes can travel at a speed of 95kph. But Ushijima acts so much like a cyborg all the time that Iwaizumi forgets sometimes that even Ushijima is human and can make less than accurate spikes, so that when Ushijima hits the ball, instead of heading straight down to the uncovered spot of space on the court, its angle is off a few degrees to the right.

 

Which is how Iwaizumi gets a 95kph volleyball to the face and is out cold even before his body hits the court.

 

– – –

 

When Iwaizumi opens his eyes, he’s staring up at the pale ceiling tiles of the school infirmary. He blinks, and while he can feel his left eye do it normally, something about his right eye feels like it’s stuck because it doesn’t blink closed. He then realizes he can’t actually see much out of it. He lifts a hand to his face, and when he feels the tender, puffy skin beneath his fingertips, he concludes his right eye is swollen and must resemble something close to a plum.

 

“Shit,” he swears, letting out a deep breath. And when he inhales, there’s a sharp pain from a cut he feels on the bridge of his nose and he concludes that besides the black eye, the ball must have also broken his nose before they snapped it back together.

 

He drops his head back to the pillow and groans. He’s never going to hear the end of this from Mattsun and Makki. Getting hit by a ball is a common occurrence when playing – but passing out and getting a black eye and broken nose isn’t. He’s in the middle of devising a plan on how to contain the news so it doesn’t spread to his friends or anyone back home when the door opens and from his one eye he sees Sawamura come in.

 

“Oh good,” he says, texting something on his phone before moving toward his bed. “You’re awake.”

 

“How long was I out?”

 

Sawamura shakes his head. “You woke up after a few minutes, but that’s still pretty long, so they put you in the infirmary. You’ve been in and out since then.”

 

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says, nodding. He pauses for a few seconds before turning back to Sawamura. “So did we win?”

 

“Yeah, we did,” he says with a chuckle. “It was tight ‘til the end, but who knows how it could have turned out if Oikawa had stayed in the game.”

 

“What? What do you mean – “

 

“Oh,” Sawamura says, clearing his throat. “Right, you were out cold by then. As soon as you passed out, Oikawa just stopped playing altogether and got to you first. And when they were taking you away, he just started, um, well, yelling at Ushijima. Honestly, it looked like he was going to hit him.”

 

He scratches the side of his face. “I think he forgot they were supposed to be on the same team now,” he says. “So yeah, their coach pulled him out for the rest of the game.”

 

Iwaizumi rests his head back on the pillow and sighs. How typical of Oikawa to get carried away again when it comes to Ushijima. Who knows how that’s going to affect him in his new team. He opens his mouth to ask where Oikawa is now when they both hear a thunder of footsteps from the hallway outside and they turn in time to see Oikawa practically skid into the room, his gym bag swinging behind him.

 

“I came as soon as I got Sawamura’s text,” he says, breathless as he rushes to Iwaizumi’s bedside, Sawamura stepping back to make way for him. Before Iwaizumi even gets to say anything, Oikawa grabs his shoulders and wraps his arms around his back as he pulls Iwaizumi into a rib-crushing hug, which makes it even harder for Iwaizumi to breathe considering he’s practically inhaling through one nostril.

 

“Oikawa, I can’t breathe – “

 

Oikawa pulls away and sets him back on the bed, but doesn’t let go of his hold on his arm as he looks down and inspects him. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache?” He raises three fingers in his other hand. “How many fingers am I holding? Do you remember how to count – “

 

Iwaizumi swats his hand away. “Cut it out – “ and when Oikawa doesn’t budge, “Three fingers, okay? I can count just fine.”

 

Finally believing him, Oikawa drops his hand and instead uses it to brush Iwaizumi’s hair back to look down at his face. He frowns as his other hand rubs Iwaizumi’s arm in slow circles. “Stupid Ushiwaka,” he says, almost like to himself, his fingers brushing lightly against Iwaizumi’s forehead. “I swear, why’s he even on the team if he can’t even spike a ball properly.”

 

Iwaizumi swats his hand away. “Oikawa, you can’t keep pulling shit like that. Ushijima’s your teammate now – “

 

“Who knocked you back to last Sunday! In case you forgot – “ Oikawa pales. “Wait, did you forget? Is it that serious? Should we call a doctor – “

 

_‘Wow, they really are together. I need to text Tanaka he’s been right all along.’_

Iwaizumi blinks at the sound of Sawamura’s deep voice. He turns his head to look past Oikawa to see him watching them with an amused expression on his face as he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes – well, one eye – and flatly says, “No, we’re not.”

 

Sawamura stops mid-motion and blinks. “What?”

 

“We’re not together,” he repeats.

 

Oikawa tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. “Not together…?” he asks, looking back to see what Iwaizumi was looking at. His eyes widen when he sees Sawamura, almost as if he didn’t realize there was another person in the room. “Ahh, Daichi, thank you for texting me!”

 

Sawamura flushes and blinks as he turns to face Oikawa, dropping his phone back his pocket. “Ahh, sure, Oikawa, no problem,” he says, his eyes switching back and forth from him to Iwaizumi.

 

_‘Crap, did I say that out loud?’_

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. His eyes were on Sawamura the entire time. While he clearly heard his deep voice say those words, his mouth had not moved at all to say them.

 

 _‘What the fuck?’_ he thinks, lifting a hand to his head.

 

Catching the movement from the corner of his eye, Oikawa whips back to face him, his eyes wide. “Oh, no, does your head hurt? Should I call the nurse – “

 

“No, it’s fine,” Iwaizumi says, swatting his hands away from his face. There’s a building panic in him that he’s trying to tamp down. He swallows. “I just… I just want to go home, I hate staying in hospitals.”

 

Oikawa looks down at him with a frown, but nods before getting up from the bed. “Okay, I’ll tell them you’re ready to go.”

 

He leaves and Sawamura follows after him, so now Iwaizumi is alone in the room. He drops his head back on his pillow and stares up at the ceiling.

 

_‘What the fuck was that?’_

 

– – –

 

Half an hour later, Iwaizumi is able to check out of the infirmary, sporting a black eye and a cut on his nose. Fortunately, his teammates think he looks pretty cool and the upperclassmen give him a slap on the back and tell him he’s done more than enough to be considered part of the team that he doesn’t have to go through the annual rookie initiation.

 

His coach asks him to stay back to inform him about how he’ll have to do minimal activity during the next few practice sessions as his eye gets better. His teammates leave ahead, exchanging looks when they see Oikawa sitting at the lobby, wondering what the setter of Tokyo University is doing there. When Iwaizumi is done speaking to his coach, he heads to the lobby, and as soon as he gets there he sees Oikawa stand up from his chair and rush to him.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Iwaizumi mutters, pulling his arm away as Oikawa attempts to help him walk. “I can walk just fine.”

 

“No you’re not fine,” Oikawa pouts, staying firm at Iwaizumi’s side and hooking his arm around Iwaizumi’s. “You can’t see at all through your right eye, so let me stay here.”

 

Knowing there’s nothing else he can do or say to get Oikawa off him, Iwaizumi sighs and lets him hold onto his arm. They walk to the bus stop side by side, Oikawa pulling him back and telling him to slow down every time he thinks Iwaizumi is walking too fast and over-exerting himself. When they get to the stop, they sit down on the bench, and Iwaizumi fills the silence by asking how the game went, making sure to avoid asking after Ushijima. Oikawa fills him in on the really good plays he made and grudgingly notes how Sawamura’s defense is still impeccable. He’s in the middle of outlandish hand motions and proudly going on about how he knows he’s going to make captain, in two years tops, when a soft, guilt-ridden voice cuts through his story.

 

_‘It’s my fault Iwa-chan’s like this.’_

 

Iwaizumi blinks and as he turns to Oikawa, he can’t explain it, but suddenly the memory of the practice game enters his mind, during the last play before he gets knocked out by Ushijima’s spike. But this time, he’s seeing it from another perspective, because he’s standing beside members of the Tokyo University team. He’s at the other end of the court, he sees his teammates behind the net – and he sees himself at the exact moment he leaves his position and looks straight at the person viewing the memory –

 

It doesn’t take long or Iwaizumi to conclude he’s seeing this through Oikawa’s point of view. And as he realizes this, Oikawa’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

 

_‘Iwa-chan always did leave his left open.’_

And Iwaizumi can only watch as he-as-Oikawa sets the ball, and it heads straight for Ushijima who had also spotted the opening Iwaizumi had left behind. The play continues to its inevitable end, and Iwaizumi winces when he sees the ball head straight for his face. When he sees himself fall, he doesn’t expect the cold slice of emotion that clutches his chest so tightly leaving it hard for him to breathe. He thinks it’s what Oikawa had felt at the moment.

 

With a gasp, Iwaizumi is pulled back from the memory, and he’s back at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to roll in, Oikawa’s warm palm resting against the inside of his elbow. He doesn’t even know what Oikawa is talking about as he waves his hands in the middle of a story, but there’s a lingering tightness in his chest, not as bad and fresh as it was in the memory, but something like it, and he concludes that it must be what Oikawa is feeling now, despite the laughs he’s giving as he shares his story.

 

“I’m not blaming you,” Iwaizumi tests.

 

Oikawa freezes, his hand in mid-motion, and Iwaizumi knows he’s right. He’s just caught Oikawa blaming himself for what happened. Oikawa’s eyes turn to him before he lowers his hand, and drops his eyes from Iwaizumi, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Seconds pass before he shakes his head.

 

“No, it’s my fault you’re hurt like this.”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes – rather, his one eye. “Oikawa, everyone gets hit in the face once in a while. It’s normal,” he says. “Sure, not everyone gets hits by an Ushijima spike…”

 

“I placed it there.”

 

Iwaizumi stops and scrunches his eyebrows. “What?”

 

Oikawa looks down, pulling the hand around Iwaizumi’s arm away to rest both his fists on his lap. Iwaizumi feels a crushing weight on his shoulders and chest that must be coming from Oikawa again.

 

“I mean,” Oikawa starts, glancing up at him before turning away again. “Ever since, you’ve… always tend to leave your left side open and, um, I’ve always noticed this. And so… I just, instinctively set it there, knowing Ushijima could get it and score.”

 

Oikawa slumps even further in his seat, covering his face with his hands. “I feel awful about it,” he says, shaking his head. “At the time, it came automatically, I didn’t even think about it, but then I realized at the hospital, it’s the first time I’ve ever intentionally used your weakness against you – and what kind of friend am I that I only thought about winning? That I didn’t even feel any guilt or have any second thoughts about doing that during the game – “

 

“Shittykawa. Don’t worry about it.”

 

Oikawa looks up, and even though Iwaizumi’s the one with the black eye and broken nose, he’s surprised to find its Oikawa’s eyes that are watery.

 

“Who we are in the game is different from… who we are when we’re not playing,” Iwaizumi says, and he’s aware he’s also telling this to himself. “We’re no longer on the same team. It’s bound to happen.”

 

It doesn’t seem to make Oikawa feel any better, and Iwaizumi knows because he still feels the weight of his emotions on his shoulders. Annoyed, Iwaizumi shoves him on the shoulder.

 

“Why are you the one crying? I’m the one with the black eye,” he says, in a scolding manner. It’s really the only way he knows how to diffuse emotions. “Besides, don’t think I won’t use the fact you’re horrible at picking up drops against you one day.”

 

For a moment, Oikawa pauses, but when he realizes what Iwaizumi’s doing, he gives him a watery smile. He laughs. “Nice, Iwa-chan, now that you mentioned it, I’m definitely going to start practicing on that.”

 

“Right, and I’ll definitely work on my defense,” Iwaizumi returns. “You won’t be able to pull that again and get my other eye.”

 

Oikawa starts to whine – “Iwa-chaaaan” – but Iwaizumi cuts him off by hooking his arm around his neck to mess up his hair. “I’m just joking,” he says as Oikawa wriggles out of his grip. “You’re such a baby.”

 

Slowly, Iwaizumi feels the weight easing off his shoulders and chest, so he knows Oikawa’s feeling better. He turns away and looks down the street for the bus, but sighs when it still isn't there. He’s about to sit back when he feels Oikawa tug his arm again, but this time pulls it closer to his body, then rests his head against his shoulder, his breath warm against the skin of his collarbone.

 

– – –

 

When the bus finally rolls in front of the stop, Iwaizumi has to swat Oikawa away because he insists on holding onto him as he gets on the bus. He makes his way to an empty row, but even before he sits down, he knows something's wrong. His gut feels like it's emptying out of him, leaving him choking with nerves. He drops to his seat. His hands start to grow clammy.

 

_‘As soon as I get to the apartment, I need to tell him I'm pregnant.’_

 

As Oikawa takes the seat beside him, Iwaizumi looks up, trying to find who that is – until his eyes land on a girl he recognizes from the infirmary, gripping a piece of paper tightly in her hands, her eyes close to tears. He takes a deep breath, tries to take his mind off it – 

 

_‘I'm starving! Maybe I'll have ramen for dinner today.’_

 

All the anxiety in him disappears and instead his head is filled with thoughts of shoyu ramen from some person who's obviously excited for dinner. He feels the hunger pangs in his stomach and can feel himself start to salivate as the thoughts grow into deeper detail. He looks up and sees a man who looks like he just came from work, sitting a few rows down, and it's the same guy in his head who's entered a ramen-ya and has ordered a bowl. He can practically taste the shoyu broth in his mouth, the smooth texture of the ajitama as the person take a bite into it – 

 

_‘Oh, he's super cute.’_

 

Just as the man is about to take another spoonful of ramen, the thoughts cut short and Iwaizumi glances at the girl seated at the row beside them, eyeing Oikawa with a glint in her eyes. Oikawa's checking his phone so he doesn't notice, but Iwaizumi wants to blush because her thoughts go from 0 to 100 in a span of few seconds. They go from admiring the line of Oikawa's nose, his high cheekbones, and suddenly he's in what looks like her apartment and she's got Oikawa on his back, his head thrown back as she rides him. 

 

"Fuck," Iwaizumi says, eyes wide, resting his head back on the seat seat. He closes his eyes and grips his head, trying to drown out the streams of thoughts with something, anything, and he's so occupied with this that when Oikawa rest a hand on his shoulder, he jumps in his seat.

 

Oikawa's eyes widen. "Iwa-chan, what's wrong?"

 

By reflex, Iwaizumi holds onto his wrist. He doesn’t know what to do, but he feels that he somehow needs steady himself amidst all the thoughts whirling in his mind. "Sorry, Oikawa," he stammers, wincing. "Can I just... hold onto you for a bit?"

 

Oikawa's eyes widen as he stares at Iwaizumi, then down at the hand gripping tightly around his wrist. Iwaizumi moves and rests his head on Oikawa's shoulder, closing his eyes as he takes in deep breaths to calm his mind. And he thinks it’s starting to work. Maybe it’s because of the proximity, because Oikawa is the closest person to him, but suddenly, all the other thoughts in his head start dying down to a soft buzz. Instead, they're being replaced with a soft warmth that fills his entire body, a calming comfort, like when you lie on fresh bed sheets after a nice, warm bath after a long day of school and practice. His guess is that it’s coming from Oikawa. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he tries to think of what Oikawa’s thinking about, but it doesn’t seem like something he can will on his own, so nothing comes up.

 

So he just asks anyway.

 

"What are you thinking about?" Iwaizumi asks, and he realizes he'd bone-tired and sleepy because it comes out softer than he had intended.

 

There's a small pause and he can feel Oikawa swallow. He sees his fist clench tighter on his lap before he answers, "Um. Milk bread."

 

"Ah," Iwaizumi says, chuckling. "Typical."

 

There's a brief pause before Oikawa asks, almost shyly, which is odd to hear because Oikawa is never shy, "Do you... uh, do you want to lean on me more? I can – " He stops. Instead, he lifts his arm anyway, then swings it around Iwaizumi's back to tuck him in his arm and let his head rest more comfortably on his shoulder. 

 

Iwaizumi closes his eyes as the warmth travels through his body. Soon, he falls asleep.

 

– – –

 

The next day, Iwaizumi goes to school and as he passes through the hallways to get to his class, he’s not even surprised by some of the questioning looks people are giving him and his black eye.

 

 _‘Oooh, did he get into a fight?’_ he hears, some of them thoughts, some of them whispers he can actually hear when he passes by some people.

 

When he gets to his biology class, he dumps his bag on the table and slumps back on his chair. The seat beside him moves back and he looks up to see Sawamura, who gives him a small wave as he gingerly sits down, holding onto his lower back as he gets on the chair. Iwaizumi gives him a curious tilt of his head. “Something up with your back?” he asks.

 

“Ah yeah,” Sawamura says, clearing his throat. “I think I may have overstretched it a bit during the game yesterday.”

 

“Oh okay,” Iwaizumi says, moving to get his things out of his bag, but right as he’s about to pull the zipper open, he’s yanked into the story of how exactly Sawamura had pulled his back – and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with the practice game.

 

He doesn’t even know how he’ll be able to look at Sawamura properly after this, now that he’s seen him completely naked, banging his girlfriend into the mattress – who Iwaizumi recognizes as Michimiya, the former captain of the Karasuno girls volleyball team (he remembers because Oikawa had commented about how cute she was once during a practice game at Karasuno and Sawamura had pointedly interrupted and said she was seeing someone) – in a position that Iwaizumi deemed as nothing short of an acrobatic feat that it’s no wonder he pulled his back while doing it.

 

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could find a way to close off his mental eyes from viewing the scene, because as it is quite a sight to see Michimiya’s breasts bounce in every thrust and hearing the moans she’s making, he feels ashamed about the instinctive twitch he feels in his groin, knowing that it’s because he’s viewing a completely private scene – although judging by how loud they’re going at it, he’s pretty sure their neighbors were able to hear them.

 

“Okay, class, good morning.”

 

Fortunately, as the professor walks in the classroom, Sawamura’s thoughts end as he focuses on the class. Iwaizumi breathes a sigh of relief as he slumps back against his seat, never thinking he’d ever feel that happy about a class starting. He pulls his notebooks out of his bag, but stops when he hears an absolutely defeated groan.

 

_‘Man, I have such a fucking hangover.’_

 

Which had come from their professor.

 

He isn’t even able to control the loud laugh that comes out of him, which makes Sawamura, some of his classmates, even make his professor look up from his desk. He clears his throat and ducks his head low to avoid making eye contact with anyone for the rest of class.

 

He then spends the next hour getting a better grasp of this strange new ability he’s been given. He learns that if he isn’t focusing on anything, the thoughts just pour in, unfiltered and tangled up with one another. So the only way he can drown them out to just a dull buzz is if he gives his sole focus on something – in this case, his professor going on about molecules and DNA. He’s never paid this much attention to a class ever before in his life.  

 

But there’s really only so much he can listen to about cells and mitochondrias before his brain dies on him, so he gives himself five minutes to lean back on his seat and rest his mind – and almost automatically, the thoughts come pouring in, like the dam holding them back just finally gave way. He hears people grumbling about how they’re still hungover from the weekend, gossip about who’s sleeping with who, who looks particularly hot in class today, some people recalling the sex they had over the weekend – actually, there are a lot of thoughts of sex. In general, he comes to realize that the average college student thinks about sex at least three times during a one hour class.

 

He shares this with Oikawa later that night, after a supermarket run because they had run out of shampoo and dishwashing liquid. He and Oikawa are having dinner in their tiny kitchenette. Oikawa is sitting on the stool by the counter top, while Iwaizumi is leaning against it on the other side.

 

“Do you know how many times the average college student thinks about sex?” Iwaizumi asks, setting his cup of instant ramen down on the counter. “Around three times _an hour_.”

 

Oikawa looks up at him from his supermarket-bought sandwich, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “And you know… how?”

 

Iwaizumi shakes his head and waves a hand at him, taking another slurp of his instant noodles. “That’s not the point,” he says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I mean, take you for example, when’s the last time you had sex?”

 

Oikawa purses his lips as he thinks. “Ahh, last week,” he says. “Kuroo invited me to a party.“

 

“See, that’s what I’m – oh shit,” Iwaizumi says, clutching his head as his mind is pulled there and he can see himself at the party he hadn’t even attended. Suddenly his head is filled with the image of Oikawa pressed against a bathroom stall, head thrown back as he’s receiving what looks like (judging purely from his expressions) a really good blowjob from a girl with red streaks dyed on her hair. Iwaizumi can practically hear the moans he’s making and the thumping of the bass outside the club’s bathroom.

 

“Fuck, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi mutters, sitting back as the image fades. He scolds himself for failing to realize of course Oikawa was going to think about it if he asked him to recall it. He notes this down for the future. He curses under his breath, completely forgetting the point he wanted to make. “Anyway, make sure you use protection, okay? And get yourself checked once in a while.”

 

“Aww, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, leaning over the table to squeeze his cheek. “Such a good mom, promoting safe sex. So thoughtful.”

 

He swats Oikawa’s hand from his face. “Stop doing that.”

 

Oikawa laughs and set his hand back down. He picks up his sandwich and is about to take another bite when he stops and eyes Iwaizumi.

 

“You know, Iwa-chan,” he says, leaning forward on their tiny counter. He props his arm up to rest his chin against his hand. “As much as I tease you about your looks – I’m sure there’s some girl out there willing to lower her standards for one night with you.”

 

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi says, leaning over to smack the side of Oikawa’s head.

 

Oikawa sits back and laughs, holding onto his head and moving away from Iwaizumi’s reach before he gets hit again. “I’m serious though!”

 

Iwaizumi scowls and starts eating his noodles. “You know I’m not into that thing.”

 

“Ahh, yes, I forgot,” Oikawa says, almost solemnly. “You’re into long-term monogamy and the promise of gross domesticity.”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and finishes the last of his ramen. Oikawa grows quiet, the teasing atmosphere from earlier toning down to something more contemplative as he crosses his arms over the counter. There’s a small slump in is shoulders as he looks down at his sandwich. “I was just thinking…” He stops and shakes his head. “Never mind.”

 

“Oh, continue,” Iwaizumi says, motioning with his chopsticks. “These are rare moments we should treasure.”

 

Oikawa scowls at him. “I was just thinking what’s so special about the whole domestic thing. Do you really only have it with a specific person?” he says slowly, picking up his sandwich but putting it down again. “Isn’t it… something you can have with you know, anyone you’re close with. Is it… is it really only just with one person?”

 

Oikawa looks away and shrugs. He means to make it look like it’s a random thought, but something about the tenseness in his shoulders makes Iwaizumi feel he’s been thinking about it often.

 

Before he can say anything, there’s a picture growing in Iwaizumi’s head, and he’s preparing himself for the visual examples of Oikawa and everything anti-domestic, but instead he’s treated to the sight of him and Oikawa just a few hours earlier at the supermarket, Iwaizumi sticking to the agreed list of toiletries and food they had set out to buy, and Oikawa ignoring that list completely and dumping any snack or junk food that caught his eye or wanted to try into their cart. Iwaizumi had refused to pay for any of them, and only agreed to half of them when Oikawa promised he’d do the dishes for three days in a row.

 

Suddenly, he’s pulled away from the supermarket and he’s in Oikawa’s room back in Miyagi, daylight pouring in from his open windows. He doesn’t know if this is a memory Oikawa is recalling or if it’s just something he’s thinking about. It’s just Oikawa this time, coming out of his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist before he pulls it off to use it to dry his brown hair, water droplets running down his arms, the naked V of his hips, and down his bare legs. Maybe it’s the sunlight, the cool breeze flowing into the room, but he looks especially refreshed and happy. There’s a comfortable ease in his movement, his eyes bright as he drops the towel to the ground and makes his way to his bed, propping a knee against the comforter before crawling onto it.

 

It’s only when Oikawa lies down when Iwaizumi realizes there’s someone else sitting on the bed beside him. When Oikawa moves to wrap his arms around the person’s waist, Iwaizumi’s eyes widen when he realizes that from the person’s arms and the body type, that it’s a man. He can’t see who it is, since he’s sitting against the bed’s headboard, reading a familiar looking book that’s covering his face, but then Iwaizumi’s eyes snap to Oikawa who moves to snuggle – _snuggle??_ – even closer against the man’s side, then presses a soft kiss on the exposed patch of skin on the man’s hip between his shirt and his boxers.

 

“Good morning,” Oikawa says softly, a warm smile on his face as he rests his head back on his pillow and closes his eyes. He sighs. “Can we please have breakfast soon? I’m starving from last night.”

 

Iwaizumi has to give himself time to process the sight. Oikawa, self-proclaimed non-believer of all things domestic, imagining himself in a prime example of domesticity in action – _and with a man._

 

“Iwa-chan?”

 

Iwaizumi snaps out of his thoughts and he’s back in their tiny, poorly lit kitchenette. He’s staring at Oikawa, who’s watching him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You kind of zoned out on me there,” he says.

 

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” Iwaizumi says, looking away as he feels himself growing red.

 

While Oikawa has never told him that he was also into guys, Iwaizumi always kind of had the idea that he was. He chalked it up to the intuitiveness of being his closest friend, noticing the way Oikawa’s eyes would linger at girls _and_ some guys during the rare parties he’d attend. Or how sometimes Oikawa would come home late from a night out, sporting marks and bruises in particular places that he didn’t think a girl would be able to put.

 

Aside from asking to make sure he was being safe with his personal activities, to which Oikawa would scoff and say of course he was, Iwaizumi has never touched on the topic beyond that, deciding it was something he felt Oikawa would tell him whenever he was ready. So until he felt he was ready, Iwaizumi wasn’t going to bring it up or force Oikawa into a spot where he’d he have to say it. But now, because of this new ability, all that careful consideration and respect for Oikawa’s personal life that he had kept up was all for nothing, and while he knows he had no control over it whatsoever, he feels guilty about finding out something so personal about Oikawa without his consent.

 

He moves away from the counter and dumps the empty cup of noodles into the bin. He doesn’t even know how to apologize for it.

 

“I’m, uh, I gotta go study for a test tomorrow,” he mumbles. He needs to get out of the room. Looking at Oikawa makes the guilt in his chest grow worse. “I’m just gonna head back to the library so you can watch your game videos here.”

 

Oikawa swivels around on his stool as he watches him cross the room to get his school bag. “Oh, I don’t have to watch them tonight,” he says. “You don’t have to leave – “

 

“No, it’s okay,” Iwaizumi says, hastily picking up his school bag and shoes. With a quick wave over his shoulder, he leaves the apartment, leaving a confused Oikawa staring after him.

 

– – –

 

When he gets back to the apartment, it’s almost midnight.

 

Their apartment is a small one, with a living room that shares the kitchenette. It has one bathroom and one bedroom. While still relatively small, fortunately their room is big enough to have both their beds, one at each side, pressed against the walls, and in between them a console table with a small lamp. By the time Iwaizumi’s done taking a shower and opens the bedroom door, Oikawa is fast asleep, turned to the side to face the wall. The lamp is still on, leaving a soft yellow glow by their beds.

 

Iwaizumi quietly makes his way to his bed, carefully stepping over their clothes and textbooks. When he finally gets on the mattress, he sighs as he reaches over to turn off the lamp.

 

His bed creaks slightly as he moves and he hears Oikawa stir from the other bed. He watches as Oikawa turns around and blinks at him slowly, rubbing his face. “Did you get to study?” he yawns, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on his pillow.

 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, his hand still over the lamp’s switch.

 

“Okay,” Oikawa muses. He lets out a soft sigh. “Don’t work yourself too hard, Iwa-chan.”

 

Iwaizumi chuckles. “That’s my line.”

 

There’s a small smile on Oikawa’s face as he settles back to sleep. “I know.”

 

Iwaizumi waits until he hears soft snores coming from Oikawa, and when he does, he turns off the light and tucks himself under the blanket to go to sleep.

 

– – –

 

Practice ends late one day and his teammates decide to head out to eat after. Usually Iwaizumi is exhausted whenever the seniors call for drinks and dinners after practice, but given his coach isn’t letting him doing any of the more strenuous drills for a few more days, he doesn’t mind joining. Iwaizumi pulls his phone out of his bag to text Oikawa he won’t be able to be there for dinner when he sees a text from Oikawa sent a few minutes earlier.

 

 _Practice isn’t finished yet!! (_ _≧Д≦_ _)_

_But I’m having dinner with my teammates after. I can bring leftovers home!_

Iwaizumi leans against his locker as he texts back, _No need. I’m eating out with my teammates too. See you later._

 

He slips his phone back in his pocket as he turns to his teammates. “Where are we eating?”

 

One of the seniors claps one of the freshman on the back. “Apparently, it’s Higuchi’s birthday today.” There are cheers and ribbing from the rest of the team. “He decides,” he says, before leaning close to Higuchi’s ear. “And it better be good since we’ll be the ones paying.”

 

Higuchi laughs nervously as he looks at the seniors, rubbing his shoulder. “We can have anything, I’m not picky.”

 

Iwaizumi thinks about what he wants, but as he looks at Higuchi, the smell of smoke and meat over a charcoal grill wafts under his nose. His mouth starts watering as he can practically taste the tender beef and the cold beer.

 

“Yakitori?” he suggests, and Higuchi looks at him, surprised.

 

“Sounds good,” their captain says, looking at the rest of the team for their approval before turning to Higuchi. “Okay with that?”

 

Higuchi turns to look at their captain and nods. “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

 

“Alright, let’s go! I know a place nearby.”

 

As they file out of the gym, Higuchi walks up to him, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Actually, Iwaizumi,” he says, looking back at their seniors who had moved on to Sawamura as the freshman to bully at that moment. He leans forward a bit and whispers, “I was really craving for yakitori. You totally read my mind there.”

 

Iwaizumi has to control himself from laughing. “No problem.”

 

Dinner is a fun one, especially when the beer comes in, and the second years start singing their heads off, their captain passes out and falls face first into his yakisoba, Sawamura drunks dials his girlfriend and tells her how he’d like their first child together to be a goldfish. Fortunately, Iwaizumi is sober enough to get on the right train home and get off on the right stop. Sure, there’s a small shuffle in his step as he walks to the apartment, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary on a late Thursday night in Tokyo.

 

He’s near his building when he sees a familiar figure at an intersection down the street. It’s Oikawa laughing as he talks to someone as they cross the street together. They’re both wearing the Toyko University team jacket, so they must be teammates. The guy is tall, taller than Oikawa even, with a wide set of shoulders, and Iwaizumi thinks he recognizes him as one of their middle blockers from the practice game. The sign hasn’t told him to cross yet, so as Iwaizumi waits, he observes the easy set in Oikawa’s shoulders as he talks to his teammate, the way he moves his arms as he speaks, the laugh he can hear from the other end of the street.

 

It’s nothing out of the ordinary from the way Oikawa talks to anyone, but Iwaizumi can’t help but wonder if there’s anything special about why it’s _this_ guy walking home with Oikawa. He know it’s stupid to think about, and he knows he’s only thinking about it since he saw what he saw a few days ago. Maybe the guy lived along the way so he usually walked home with Oikawa, and it wasn’t like he and Oikawa updated each other 24/7 about who they’re with and what they’re doing, but still… he has the frame, the slightly darker skin. And maybe it’s the alcohol affecting his judgment, but as Oikawa’s best friend, doesn’t he kind of have to know the person Oikawa imagines having perfect domestic bliss with?

 

The sign changes and Iwaizumi crosses the street and now they’re heading toward each other before they both make the turn to their building. He waits until Oikawa notices him, and when he does, his eyes widen before he waves. His teammate looks up to see who he’s waving at.

 

“Iwa-chan!” he calls, as they near each other.

 

“Don’t call me that,” Iwaizumi mutters. He’s able to tolerate the nickname most times, but it’s more embarrassing than usual when Oikawa calls him it in front of people he doesn’t know. He gives Oikawa’s teammate a nod. “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” the guy replies back. This close, Iwaizumi can see how the guy takes a quick look at the Keio University logo on his bag.

 

“Iwa-chan, this is Hara,” Oikawa says, motioning toward his teammate. “Hara, this is – “

 

He cuts in, “Iwaizumi.”

 

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “ _Iwaizumi_ ,” he repeats, as he turns back to his friend. “My best friend from high school. We’re sharing the apartment actually.”

 

Iwaizumi glances at Hara, curious to see if there’s any physical or mental reaction to Oikawa sharing the fact they’re roommates. He concludes that if there was something between the two of them, there would have to be one. Fortunately, he does manage to get a peek into Hara’s thoughts, but surprisingly, all the guy is thinking about is analyzing what position Iwaizumi plays on the team, how good he is, if he knows anyone else from their team – pretty basic stuff from someone from a rival team.

 

“Oh, cool,” Hara says. He points ahead of them. “My building’s actually just a few streets down.”

 

“Yeah, we usually walk home together.”

 

“Cool,” Iwaizumi nods, not really trying to add much to the conversation because he’s in the middle of controlling himself from laughing at himself for his overthinking.

 

Hara turns to Oikawa. “Well, see you tomorrow,” he says, giving a small wave as he steps around them. He gives Iwaizumi a quick nod before continuing his walk down the street, his hands slipping inside his pockets.

 

He and Oikawa head down the street together to their building and there’s a gleam in Oikawa’s eyes when he leans forward a bit and glances at Iwaizumi. He flutters his eyelashes at him. “So, were you jealous there for a second?”

 

A chill runs down Iwaizumi’s spine. Did Oikawa suddenly have the ability to read minds too? But then he realizes, wait, no, that wasn’t what he was thinking earlier when he saw Hara. He clears his throat. “Of what?”

 

“That I might have gotten a new best friend,” Oikawa says cheekily, winking at him.

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Didn’t I say before we graduated that I was going to be happy if you found someone else to bother?”

 

The smile falls off Oikawa’s face and what's left is a mix of hurt, disappointment, and frustration. He shoulders Iwaizumi, nearly sending him over the sidewalk. “Iwa-chan, you’re no fun,” he snaps, before picking up his speed and leaving him behind.

 

Iwaizumi gapes after him. For a moment he considers just letting him stew in whatever mood he’s in now, before he sighs and knows the best thing to do is to deal with this directly. He runs after Oikawa and holds onto his arm to get him to stop walking. “What’s wrong – “

 

Oikawa spins around, jerking his arm way from Iwaizumi’s hold. “You know, I asked other people,” he says, his eyes bright. “Sure, it’s not exactly a good thing, but it’s _normal_ , to feel a bit jealous when your best friend starts hanging out with other people and spends less time with you. And okay! I’ll admit!” He raises his hand up in the air like it’s a role call in class. “I do worry sometimes that you’re gonna find someone funnier, smarter, nicer – “

 

Suddenly Oikawa stops, the words cut short as he covers his mouth with the back of his hand and a blush envelops his entire face. He looks away before shaking his head, his closed fists dropping to his sides. “The point is, okay, sometimes I think you don’t really care, or that you don’t care… you know, about our friendship, as much as I do – “

 

Iwaizumi drops his bag to the ground so he can hold onto both of Oikawa’s arms, shutting his best friend up. Oikawa looks up at him, his eyes watery.

 

“Oikawa,” he says slowly. “I’ve never cared about it that way.”

 

Holding onto both of Oikawa’s arms, he can feel when Oikawa’s shoulders fall. He gives him a small shake as he continues. “I don’t really care if you hang out with other people without me or if you spend more time with other friends.” Iwaizumi looks at his best friend in the eye as he finishes, “We’re in different schools now, of course I don’t want you to be a loner there."

 

He sighs. "And okay, call me stupid or whatever, but I just know that at the end of the day I’m your best friend. And you’re mine.”

 

Oikawa bottom lip quivers as Iwaizumi drops his hands from his sides. “And besides, we live together,” he says, picking his bag up from the ground. “So, as cheesy as it sounds, at the end of the day, I come home to you.”

 

Another blush takes over Oikawa’s face as Iwaizumi continues the walk back to their building. A few seconds after he hears Oikawa run after him until he’s back beside him. He latches onto his arm and clings to Iwaizumi’s side.

 

“Ugh, I really wish you would just get jealous once in a while,” Oikawa huffs, ducking his head low to rest against Iwaizumi’s shoulder as they walk. “You know me. I’m petty. That’s how I know I’m valued and wanted.”

 

Iwaizumi is about to reply back, but then the image of Oikawa on his bed, snuggling up to that guy appears in his mind and the words fall from his tongue. He muses to himself, self-aware enough to know that he’s been thinking about it more often than he thought he would.

 

He settles his reply with a “Whatever” before they enter their building and go up to their apartment.

 

– – –

 

The next weekend it’s his mom’s birthday, so his parents decide to spend the weekend in Tokyo. Given their apartment is too small to fit them all, they check in a hotel for the night. It’s only Iwaizumi’s pride that keeps him from asking if he and Oikawa could also stay over, just to remember what it’s like to live in sanitary conditions for one night.

 

He and Oikawa pick them up from the train station, Iwaizumi swearing they would be late the entire way there because of how long Oikawa took to get ready before they finally got to leave the apartment.

 

“Why are you so dressed up anyway?” he asks as they wait outside the gates. He glances at Oikawa, who’s wearing a dark coat over a light blue button down he had ironed for today. “It’s just my parents.”

 

“You know I like looking my best for your mom,” Oikawa sniffs defensively, running a hand through the light brown hair he had spent about twenty minutes fixing. He glances at Iwaizumi, who’s wearing a pair of jeans and a grey sweatshirt. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you dressed up a bit.”

 

“Oikawa, she’s seen you when you were eight and you had diarrhea at my house. She cleaned up the sheets.”

 

Oikawa’s face flushes as he looks around, making sure no one had heard him. He smacks Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “ _Iwa-chan!_ ” he hisses. “ _Can you not bring that up here?_ ”

 

Iwaizumi laughs as he rubs his shoulder, and looks up when he hears that his parents’ train had arrived. A few minutes pass until a crowd of people emerge from the gate and he soon sees his parents among them. His mom waves when she sees him and she rushes over to give him a big hug, to which he returns, lifting her a few inches off the ground.

 

“Hi, mom,” he says, putting her down.

 

“Ah, Hajime, how’s my college boy?” she asks, smiling up at him. She starts to ask him a few questions – how’s he eating, how’s the apartment, do they cook – and he’s in the middle of answering when he hears her voice in his head.

 

_‘Tsk, tsk. He’s not bothering to cut his hair. Gosh, who does his laundry? Does he even wash his clothes? Look at the stain on that sweatshirt.’_

He instinctively looks down and notices the ketchup stain at the hem of his sweatshirt for the first time. He’s about to protest when Oikawa steps up to them and gives a small wave.

 

“Hi, auntie.”

 

His mom’s eyes widen. “Oh, Tooru!” she cheers, wrapping him in a big hug. “Look at you, looking like a proper college boy.” From years of experience, Iwaizumi knows a part of that was meant to be a rib against him.

 

“Mom, you saw him five months ago,” Iwaizumi says flatly, but she only ignores him as she continues to fawn over Oikawa.

 

_‘How does Tooru manage to keep up his appearances while my son leaves the house not knowing he has a stain on his shirt?’_

“That’s because he’s vain and hogs the bathroom,” is what Iwaizumi wants to say, but decides not to as he watches Oikawa bask in his mother’s attention like he always does. Iwaizumi doesn’t really know why Oikawa always tries to put his best foot forward and look his best in front of his mom; she practically half-raised him and probably already considers him her favorite son anyway. He turns and sees his father with the bags so he heads over to greet him and help him with them. After asking each other how they are, he can clearly hear his father’s pained voice in his head.

 

_‘I’m starving. Where’s the nearest curry house?’_

“I know a good curry house for lunch,” Iwaizumi says, enjoying the impressed look on his father’s face. “It’s nearby, just a few minutes from here.”

 

His father claps a hand on his back as they start the walk there, Oikawa and his mom following after them, chatting nonstop.

 

When they get to the restaurant, they shuffle into a booth, him and Oikawa in one side, his parents at the other. After handing the menus back to the waitress his mother starts the grueling inquisition he had been preparing himself for all week – How’s school? How are your professors? How are your grades, I don’t get to see a copy of your grades anymore. How are your classmates? Do you have any new friends? Do you have a girlfriend yet? Don’t tell me you have a girlfriend I don’t know about yet. 

 

Because Oikawa is not her son, he fortunately doesn’t have to go through the same line of questioning, and instead is having a pleasant conversation with his dad about how his volleyball is going.

 

“No, mom, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Iwaizumi says, his answer routine. The food comes and even that doesn’t stop his mom's barrage of questions.

 

“Are you going out to parties? Meeting new people? How are you going to have a girlfriend if you don’t go out to meet new people?”

 

Beside him, Oikawa coughs as he chokes on a spoonful of curry, which fortunately cuts his mom short. He gulps down a glass of water and after a few seconds of everyone asking if he’s okay, Iwaizumi’s mom turns back to him.

 

“Hajime, I’m not getting any younger. When am I going to have grandkids?”

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes bug out of his head. “Mom, I _just_ entered college – “

 

To which his mom throws her head back and starts laughing. He just stares at her in shock, and gets even more flabbergasted when his dad starts chuckling beside her, hiding his smile behind a napkin. Iwaizumi gives both of them a flat, unamused look until his mom waves a hand at him.

 

“Honey, I’m kidding,” she says, digging into her bowl of curry. She turns to Oikawa. “How about you, Tooru? I’m sure you must have a girlfriend by now.”

 

“No, sadly, no one yet,” Oikawa says, giving her a sweet smile, and Iwaizumi wants to roll his eyes because it’s the complete opposite of the images of all the situations and people he’s hooked up with in the past few months that’s currently running through his mind as he answers her.

 

His mom frowns. “Really? No special person you’ve been spending a lot of time with?”

 

“It's just me, mom,” Iwaizumi replies flatly, before taking another spoonful of curry. “The usual.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he notices the way Oikawa stops mid-reply to glance at him, before turning to look back down at his food. There’s a slight redness to his cheeks, Iwaizumi thinks he had asked his curry to be too spicy again.

 

“Oh,” Oikawa says, putting his spoon down. He pulls his coat back and takes out a parcel from one of the inner pockets. “I got you a gift.”

 

His mom’s eyes widen in surprise as she takes it, and so do Iwaizumi’s. “Oh! Tooru, you shouldn’t have!”

 

As she opens it, Iwaizumi kicks Oikawa under the table, and Oikawa has to visibly control himself from clutching his leg when he shoots Iwaizumi a look _– What?_

“I haven’t gotten her a gift yet,” he hisses under his breath.

 

Oikawa shoots back, “And that’s my fault because – “

 

“Oh, it’s lovely!” Iwaizumi’s mom coos as she pulls out a pale orange scarf from the packaging. She wraps it around her neck and looks at Iwaizumi’s dad who gieves her an approving nod. She turns to Oikawa and holds her hand over his. “Thank you, dear. I love it.”

 

Oikawa beams back at her. “I’m glad you do.”

 

She sits back and pats the scarf over her neck as she smiles sweetly at Iwaizumi. “I’m sure my son forgot to get me anything.”

 

Iwaizumi blushes. “No, of course I did,” he quickly lies, and he sees the way Oikawa is trying to hold his laughter. “I just left it at the apartment. I’ll get it when I meet you back to your hotel.”

 

“Oh, I’m excited then,” his mom says, smiling wider. “Although, you didn’t have to get me anything special. You know I’d be happy with just a card.”

 

She says that, but Iwaizumi knows she’s thinking differently. In his head he can see her back at their home, reading through a cooking magazine and stopping at a page that features an assortment of pots and pans. She focuses on one, reading its details and commenting on how perfect it’d be for her stews, before turning the page. Iwaizumi takes note of the brand and model.

 

When they leave the restaurant, Oikawa joins Iwaizumi’s parents to help them check into the hotel. Iwaizumi excuses himself and says he’ll just pick up the gift from their apartment, but instead heads to the nearest home appliance store and easily finds the pan his mother had been looking at in the magazine. With the change, he gets the box wrapped in orange gift wrapping paper since orange is her favorite color.

 

When he gets to the hotel and hands the gift to his mom, the delight in her eyes is enough to make Iwaizumi think, for the first time, he doesn’t mind having this strange new gift.

 

– – –

 

The weekend ends and Iwaizumi says goodbye to his parents at the train station. By the time he gets back to the apartment, he’s exhausted and wishes he could just have two more free days to have a proper weekend and recharge for the coming school week. Oikawa glances up at him from where he’s sitting on the floor, his back resting against the couch as he watches a movie on their television. Seeing the free couch, Iwaizumi throws his entire weight on it and groans as he closes his eyes.

 

“I am so tired,” he groans against the cushions, pressing his face against them.

 

Oikawa turns away from his movie and rests his arms over the cushions. He settles his chin against the back of his hands as he watches Iwaizumi, a small smile on his face.

 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, his voice soft. “I can go out to get some snacks.”

 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Wake me up when it’s time for dinner,” he mumbles as he closes his eyes and quickly dozes off.

 

When he wakes up it’s already late afternoon, the sun setting outside their windows, casting a dark red orange hue over their living room. Oikawa is still sitting on the floor in front of him, his legs pulled to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. He’s munching on a bag of chips, transfixed with the fight scene playing on their television screen between the military troops and the alien invaders trying to take over Earth. Iwaizumi recognizes the movie instantly. It’s one of Oikawa’s favorites, and it was probably the hundredth time he’s watched it with Oikawa that Iwaizumi has already memorized the choreography in the fight scene and knows that after the humans win this first battle, it’s followed with a sex scene between the hero and the top female commander who originally hated his guts; the characters high on adrenaline and their recent win.

 

On screen, the lady commander has her head thrown back, her long blonde hair hanging over the edge of the bed as the hero trails down her body, pressing his lips over her breasts, her stomach, the inside of her thighs as he parts her legs, and the camera cuts to a shot of the woman’s face as she squeezes her eyes shut and lets out a long moan, making it clear where the hero is now and what he's doing. If it wasn’t the hundredth time he’d already seen this movie, Iwaizumi would have had his eyes glued to the screen, but now he can only see the sex scene as a series of choreographed moves and verbal cues, so when he feels his phone vibrate beside him, he reaches for it to read his messages.

 

He’s scrolling through them and about to open a new message from Makki when he sniffs and recognizes the distinct smell of semen. He pulls his head back from the couch, not getting off it completely, but ready to swear up a storm if Oikawa had –

 

He stops as his mind is cut with an image of a shirt lying on a carpet. He stares at it, then his eyes follow a trail of clothes leading from what he recognizes as the hallway of his house back in Miyagi, up to his bedroom. He’s not dumb, he knows what he’s going to see if he follows a line of clothes into a bedroom, but as much as he tries to squeeze his eyes shut and will himself to try to escape this train of thought, he can’t. He finds himself coming in through the open gap of his bedroom door, seeing a pair of pants on the floor, shoes tossed carelessly to the side, and he’s already vaguely wondering why there’s a noticeable lack of a bra or lingerie when suddenly his head is filled with an image he will not be able to erase from his mind.

 

It’s Oikawa, completely naked, legs spread open, his head thrown back and hanging over the edge of the bed – _his_ bed – one arm hooked over his head and covering his eyes. The position is just like that of the female lead in the movie, so it’s not hard to conclude that as Oikawa’s watching it, he’s thinking about it, imaging himself in her position because just like the heroine in the movie, Oikawa is being fucked into the mattress like there’s no tomorrow.

 

Iwaizumi blinks. Oikawa is the one getting fucked here. That’s a man fucking Oikawa.

 

“ _Harder_ ,” Oikawa breathes, his chest heaving, his other hand clutching the mattress, anchoring himself from sliding off the bed with how strong his body jerks as the man fucks into him. Oikawa lifts his head to press his lips close to the man’s ear, a wicked turn to his lips. “I want to feel this in the morning, I want to remember what it’s like to feel this full, filled with that cock of yours. _Come on_.”

 

Iwaizumi curses under his breath when he feels his groin twitch at Oikawa’s words, at the blatant lust and desperation in his voice. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the sight when the man in question comes into full view and Iwaizumi’s throat dries.

 

At first he can only see the man’s bare back, the pair of boxers not even fully removed and pooled by his knees as he fucks Oikawa, like they couldn’t even wait to get properly undressed. But even though Iwaizumi can go an entire day without looking at a mirror, he can recognize his own body when he sees it. And he knows those pair of boxers. He just had them washed yesterday.

 

He knows it’s his hips that Oikawa has his thighs wrapped around, his back that Oikawa’s ankles are linked behind, his tan hands holding onto Oikawa’s pale waist as he pulls him into each hard thrust, Oikawa taking him to the hilt every time, and finally he hears his name – _Hajime_ , not Iwaizumi, not Iwa-chan – escape Oikawa’s lips amidst the moans and begging for him to come faster.

 

That’s him fucking Oikawa.

 

Oikawa is imagining himself being fucked by him.

 

“What the fuck!” Iwaizumi yelps, jerking upright on the couch, his face on fire.

 

Suddenly the vision is gone as Oikawa jumps in his place on the floor. He turns to look up at Iwaizumi.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, pausing the movie and reaching over to touch him. Iwaizumi sees the slight flush in Oikawa's cheeks, and it makes his face red.

 

“Nothing! Stay there!” Iwaizumi says, pretty much jumping off the couch. His foot catches on the arm rest and he stumbles onto the floor, but he quickly picks himself up together. “Uhh, I forgot something in the library.”

 

Oikawa stares up at him from the floor. “It’s Sunday.”

 

“Yeah, uh,” Iwaizumi clears his throat. He grabs onto his nearest pair of pants and puts them on, makings sure not to look at Oikawa in the eye. His face is hot. His entire body is hot, and yet shivers run down his spine if he doesn’t keep his thoughts together, if he doesn’t keep himself from thinking about what he just saw. “I forgot it last Friday, um, lemme just – “

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, pointing at him. “Your pants are inside out.”

 

Iwaizumi looks down and shit, they are. He pulls them off one more time, cursing inwardly as he turns away and tries to hide the boner that won’t quit and pulls the pants back on. Once they’re on properly, he practically runs out of the apartment, and breathes in relief as the smell of sex fades and is replaced with the cool pine scent of indoor air freshener. He takes a few more deep breaths and looks back at his apartment door.

 

What now?

 

– – –

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get any heat from Daisuga shippers - I thought Daichi and the womens team captain were soooo cute okay!! HAHA!
> 
> This was supposed to be a one shot but I felt this was a good part to end it in the meantime. Please let me know what you think so far. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be a 2-chapter story, but nope, I think I need to extend it to 3. 
> 
> This starts off right after where the first chapter ended.

 

– – –

 

By the time Iwaizumi gets back to the apartment, he’s already walked around the nearby park twice, had two cups of coffee at a coffee shop, stopped by an arcade and played a few games, and had actually dropped by the cinema to watch a movie only to realize when he was about to purchase the ticket that he didn’t have enough money in his wallet.

 

And basically, after all of that, he still had no idea what to do with the new knowledge that his best friend wants to sleep with him.

 

No, actually, _sleeping_ is the G-rated, family friendly way of putting it.

 

 _Fucking_ would be the more appropriate term to describe what he had seen and what Oikawa imagined him doing to him.

 

Sure, he’s a guy, he does think of sex often too. You know, those fleeting two second ‘what-if’ scenarios he has when he sees an attractive girl in class or on the street or something – and he’s sure that Oikawa, as a healthy young man, does too. They come, they pass, that’s it.

 

But that wasn’t a vague, two-second thought of sex that Oikawa was thinking about. No, that was a very detailed collection of actions, sounds, and motions that showed there was a lot of thought and imagination put into it – and what does it mean when someone has very detailed thoughts about how they’d like to have sex with you?

 

Oikawa wants to have sex with him. And he’s thought about it in great detail.

 

And just that thought alone is something that he can’t wrap his mind around. If he tries to think about the whys, the hows, the whens, the more he can’t believe he’s at a situation where he’s thinking about them in the first place.

 

It’s already close to midnight when he gets back to their apartment. As he opens the door he hopes that Oikawa’s already asleep, to avoid any awkward interactions until the morning –

 

“Oh, you’re back.”

 

Of course he isn’t.

 

Oikawa is, unfortunately, still awake, leaning against one of the couch’s arm rests with his head propped up on his hand, watching a documentary about bees or something. He lifts his head from his hand and sits up when he sees Iwaizumi close the door behind him.

 

“Couldn’t find it?” he asks, angling his head to look behind him.

 

Iwaizumi stares at him blankly. “Find what?”

 

Oikawa gives him an amused look. “What you forgot last Friday.”

 

He wants to smack his head for forgetting about the entire story for why he went out in the first place. He clears his throat and bends down to removes his shoes to avoid any eye contact. “Oh, uh,” he says, clearing his throat again. “Yeah, when I got there I realized I had brought… what I had forgotten… home. Last Friday. So yeah, I didn’t actually forget anything.”

 

Oikawa tilts his head to the side. “Oh, so what took you so long?”

 

Iwaizumi curses to himself. When did he get so bad at lying?

 

“Oh, uh… I decided to study. Since I was already there. I, uh, have a quiz tomorrow.”

 

That gets Oikawa to raise his eyebrows. “Study? In the library? _Again?_ ”

 

He gets off the couch and walks over to Iwaizumi, stopping in front of him before leaning forward and pressing a hand against Iwaizumi’s forehead, his eyebrows wrinkled in mock worry. Oikawa’s eyes meet his and Iwaizumi just wants to combust in flames at how close Oikawa is right now. He can feel his warm breath against his face. If Oikawa leans just a few inches more, their noses would touch. Oikawa is always up in his personal space, but now things feel different. Now he’s fully aware of it. He hates this. It’s starting to get really annoying.

 

“You don’t _feel_ sick,” Oikawa notes, dropping his hand as his eyes move up and down Iwaizumi’s body. He clucks his tongue. “But are you _really_ my best friend? I don’t remember my Iwa-chan ever voluntarily going to the library to study this much before.”

 

Iwaizumi swats Oikawa’s hand away. “Get away from me,” he mutters, stepping around him as Oikawa laughs. “I’m taking a shower.”

 

He goes into their room to grab a towel. Oikawa follows after him, stopping by the door to lean against the doorframe. He crosses his arms, watching Iwaizumi as he pulls open his drawers. He pouts. “Hmmm, I wonder. Are you _really_ studying?”

 

Iwaizumi pauses in the middle of digging through his things, but he doesn’t look back at him. “What are you talking about?”

 

Oikawa shrugs, leaning his head against the doorframe, his eyes traveling to the floor. “I mean, what if you’re just saying you’re going to the library to,” Oikawa stops and raises his hands to make two quotes in the air as he says, “’study.’ But you’re actually, I don’t know, secretly dating some girl or something.”

 

Iwaizumi stands up straight, pushing his drawer closed with his knee. He turns around and rolls his eyes at Oikawa. “I’m not secretly dating anyone,” he says, moving to leave the room. Oikawa steps to the side to make way for him but follows him as he heads to the bathroom.

 

“I’m just saying,” Oikawa continues. “If you are, you know, you can tell me.”

 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi turns around and gives him a flat look. “ _I_ don’t care about who you’re dating or that you’re with some new girl every week. We’ve never cared about this kind of stuff before. Why do _you_ care all of a sudden?”

 

Oikawa looks away and scoffs, crossing his arms as his cheeks grow red. “Just because _you_ never cared, doesn’t mean I never did,” he says, pointedly not looking at Iwaizumi in the eye. “I mean, I’d like to know if you’re seeing someone. Because, you know, I’m your best friend. Shouldn’t I know who she is?”

 

Iwaizumi realizes that line of thinking sounds awfully familiar. And awfully fake. He stares at Oikawa, really wishing he was able to control his ability and use it whenever he wants to because he really wants to know what Oikawa really was on about. But no, nothing comes, so he’s just been staring really hard at his best friend for the past few seconds.

 

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well, I’m not seeing anyone,” he says. At least that part is honest, before he lies, “I really am just studying.”

 

Oikawa turns to look at him for a few more seconds before he shrugs and turns away. “Okay,” he says, walking over to the couch to turn off the television.

 

Iwaizumi turns around and steps into their bathroom. He’s about to close the door when he hears Oikawa from outside –

 

“I think I used up all the hot water by the way!”

 

_“Oikawa!”_

 

– – –

 

Iwaizumi, like most people, isn’t able to escape the trap of having deep thoughts and reflections in the shower. There really is something about the consistent patter of the water hitting the tiled floor, the feel of it drumming against his shoulders before running down his body, and the blank whiteness of the bathroom tiles that leaves the mind open to wandering thoughts. He’s staring at the bare white tiles as he runs through the thoughts that have filled his mind the entire time he’s been standing there.

 

The fact is, you only really imagine yourself having sex with people you’re attracted to. Sure, there are those times when someone dares you to think about what sex would be like with people you hate or find disgusting with the intention of grossing you out, but for most cases, when you voluntarily imagine someone fucking you, that means you find them attractive. That means you like them. It wasn’t like he forced Oikawa to imagine anything, so from that, he can conclude that because Oikawa has thoughts about having sex with them, this means Oikawa finds him attractive. Which means Oikawa likes him – in the more-than-friends way.

 

He’s never known Oikawa to be super picky about whom he wants to be with. He just knows, physical appearance-wise, they tend to be very, very good looking. So despite his own admittedly average looks, there must be something in him that Oikawa finds attractive. Which is in direct contrast to how many times Oikawa calls him ugly or makes fun of his hair or his eyebrows or his general appearance that looking back at those times, it makes him want to go, ‘HA-HA! JOKE’S ON YOU, I KNOW YOU’RE INTO ALL OF THIS.’ At least there’s a silver lining to this situation that he can laugh about. Maybe. 

 

So past that, his trail of thought leads to the _why_. Why is Oikawa attracted to him? A part of Iwaizumi always believed that Oikawa, as a natural born attention seeker, usually ends up with the person who gives him the most attention that night. So is it because he’s usually the one who gives him the most attention? Is it a matter of proximity and that he’s the person who Oikawa has spent the most time with all his life? Because they’ve been neighbors since they were kids, teammates since grade school, and now living together?

 

He finds himself unable to answer that, which leads him to thinking about _when._ Since when has Oikawa had thoughts like these about him?

 

And finally – what is this all going to lead up to in Oikawa’s head? What he saw was cut short before he could answer this, so is Oikawa just looking for a good one-time thing to get it out of his system? Or is Oikawa actually looking for something more? A relationship? _From him?_

Iwaizumi groans. His head hurts from all the thinking. He wishes he couldn’t read minds, he wishes that he could go back to living in ignorance, blissfully aware of any of this. He turns the water off and stands in the shower for a while, taking deep, calming breaths, and enjoying the warm humidity within the small space.

 

When he slides the shower door back, he groans when he realizes he had only grabbed a towel and had forgotten to get anything else. He pulls it off the rack and dries his hair first before wrapping it around his waist, one hand holding onto the towel as he opens the door and heads to the bedroom. When he opens the door, he sees the soft glow of their bedside lamp and Oikawa on his bed, leaning against his headboard as he reads a book.

 

“So I’m reading this book,” Oikawa starts, his eyes still on the pages. “And I realized that – “

 

Oikawa glances up from his book and stops.

 

“What did you realize?” Iwaizumi muses, stepping toward his drawers. He looks up to find Oikawa staring at him and his stomach drops out when he realizes what’s about to –

 

He’s in Oikawa’s thoughts now, and in Oikawa’s thoughts, Oikawa puts down his book and stands up from his bed.

 

He takes the three strides between them before his hands are holding onto Iwaizumi’s waist, his eyes bright with such desire that it makes Iwaizumi’s stomach turn to be in the receiving end of such a look. No wonder people are falling over themselves to be with Oikawa. There’s a brief second pause before Oikawa drops to his knees, and the Iwaizumi in Oikawa’s thoughts can only groan and step back until he’s leaning against the drawer as Oikawa pulls the towel back, not even bothering to remove it completely as he dips his head between the fold and takes Iwaizumi’s soft cock in his mouth.

 

Iwaizumi can hear himself in Oikawa’s thoughts groan as Oikawa slips one hand beneath the towel to hold onto his steadily hardening cock, squeezing it, closing his lips over the swelling length, sucking just at the tip and licking the precum leaking out of it. Oikawa bobs his head and takes it further in his mouth each time, and Iwaizumi looks down and he can see the bump on Oikawa’s cheek as he presses the head against the inside of his mouth. He swears when Oikawa’s other hand slips under the towel to hold onto his ass, pulling him in closer to get the full length in his mouth until Iwaizumi feels the head hit the back of Oikawa’s throat before he swallows around it.

 

“Shit,” he hears himself say, squeezing his eyes shut at the impossible heat surrounding his cock, and his knees want to give way when suddenly Oikawa pulls off, the audible pop of his lips filling the room. The towel falls away and Iwaizumi wants to cry at the sight of Oikawa nuzzling his cock like a kid who’s finally gotten his candy, smearing precum and saliva over his lips and cheek like he’s hungry for it.

 

Oikawa looks up at him, pupils blown wide as he takes one of Iwaizumi’s hands and places it at the back of his head. Iwaizumi’s unable to pull his eyes away as Oikawa says, breathless, “Fuck my mouth, Iwa-chan,” he says, the innocent childhood nickname almost sounding sacrilegious in his ears given their situation. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

 

The Iwaizumi in Oikawa’s thoughts groans at the command, and he’s more than willing to participate as Oikawa opens his mouth and he settles his cock back on his tongue. He watches as Oikawa loosens his jaw and lets out a groan that’s cut short as Iwaizumi jerks his hips and slips his cock further in until Oikawa’s nose is brushing against the hair around his crotch. His grip tightens around Oikawa’s hair and he can hear Oikawa moan as he shifts his hips back by just a bit before pushing back in, careful not to put too much force as he starts building a rhythm. He throws his head back when Oikawa has him to the hilt and feels his throat swallow around the head.

 

He pulls his hips back again and he can hear Oikawa groan at the loss, but it’s cut short when he shoves his hips back in, slowly building a rhythm that leaves both of them gasping – him for air, Oikawa, around his cock. His grip on Oikawa’s hair tightens even more and Oikawa lets out an appreciative groan, muffled by the cock driving into his throat, and Iwaizumi looks down when he feels Oikawa’s shoulder move against his leg, and he sees Oikawa has his own cock pulled out of his boxers and he’s stroking himself in time with Iwaizumi’s thrusts.

Iwaizumi is lost in the heat, breathless as he grows closer to the edge, that’s he’s caught completely off guard when suddenly Oikawa pulls off, and he looks down, about to ask what’s wrong when Oikawa leans back against the floor, pulling Iwaizumi down with him until Oikawa has his back against the carpet and he’s positioning Iwaizumi’s knees at both sides of his face before hungrily moving his head and slipping Iwaizumi back in his mouth.

 

“Fuck, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi gasps, clenching his fists against the carpet as he thrusts back down into the heat, fucking Oikawa’s mouth, listening to the obscene slurps coming from Oikawa’s mouth, hearing the slick slip of skin as Oikawa strokes himself. The heat coils at the pit of his stomach as he chokes out a moan. “Fuck, Oikawa, I’m – “

 

He comes hard, down into the back of Oikawa’s throat, his hips jerking as he comes in pulses. Oikawa swallows it down hungrily, and he feels Oikawa jerk as he comes over his hand, white spurts spreading over his shirt. Oikawa pulls his mouth away and sucks in a desperate inhale, and Iwaizumi falls to the floor beside him, his back on the carpet as he stares up at the ceiling.

 

“Fuck,” he pants, the cool air washing over his muscles.

 

Beside him, Oikawa turns over to rest his weight on top of him, climbing up so he can look down at Iwaizumi, a satisfied smirk on his lips, like a cat who’s finally managed to catch the bird.

 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Oikawa says, out of breath, and Iwaizumi is transfixed by the slick sheen of saliva and cum over his swollen lips. And he can’t pull his eyes away as Oikawa continues, a smile on his face, his eyes not breaking away from him, “But only if it was you.”

 

Iwaizumi can only stare at him, all words lost from him, that he can see the point where Oikawa grows self-conscious at such obvious attention and pulls his eyes away, a blush forming on his cheeks, suddenly shy despite what they had just done.

 

“Oikawa…” he says.

 

“What?”

 

_Shit._

 

He’s back in their room, gripping a wet towel around his waist, and he panics when he looks down and feels a bulge growing underneath it.

 

“Oh, uh,” he says, quickly turning around and busying himself by pulling his drawers open. “Never mind, I forgot.”

 

Oikawa clucks his tongue. Given the dark lighting, he can’t feel if his cheeks are flushed too. “You’re being really absentminded lately, Iwa-chan,” he says.

 

He wants to laugh because really, absent-minded is the farthest he has been lately. He’s so deep into people’s minds he _wishes_ he was absent-minded.

 

“Ah, yeah,” he mutters.

 

He pulls out a pair of boxers and puts them on under his towel. After pulling on a shirt, he drops his towel onto the bed before climbing on top of it. He takes slow, deep breaths, praying his boner to go away.

 

“Good night, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says from his bed, setting his book down before reaching over to turn off the light.

 

Iwaizumi grunts in response and pulls the blanket over himself to try to will himself to sleep. He closes his eyes, but all he can see is that look of unashamed want in Oikawa’s eyes staring up at him as he takes his cock into his mouth.

 

_Fuck.  
_

 

– – –

 

“So I think Oikawa likes me.”

 

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line.

 

Iwaizumi is sitting on a bench at the park near their apartment building. He was on his way home from practice when the overwhelming urge to just finally talk to someone came over him. So he decided it was best to call Mattsun when he wasn’t in the apartment, so he could be sure Oikawa wouldn’t be able to overhear. Right before the call he thought about telling him everything, including the ‘Oh-I-can-read-minds-now’ issue, but as soon as Mattsun picked up the phone he decided it would be easier to just talk about Oikawa. While bizarre and equally unbelievable, Oikawa liking him would probably be something easier to process than him being able to read minds.

 

“Hello?” he asks, when it feels like it’s been over a minute since Mattsun had said anything. He pulls his phone away from his ear to check if it’s still connected, but it still is. “You still there?”

 

“Yeah,” Mattsun’s gruff voice says on the other line. “Wait a sec.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I need to connect Makki.”

 

Iwaizumi jerks back “Wait, why – “

 

But he can already hear the soft sounds of Mattsun pressing his keys on the other end of the line. There’s a soft beep before he hears a phone pickup and Makki’s voice as he asks, “What’s up?”

 

“Makki,” Mattsun says first. “You need to hear this.”

 

“Hear what?”

 

Iwaizumi starts, “He doesn’t need to – “

 

“Iwaizumi,” Mattsun cuts in. “Please repeat what you just told me.”

 

There’s a vein on Iwaizumi’s forehead that he can already feel throbbing. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders.

 

“I think Oikawa likes me,” he repeats.

 

And just like before, his only response is a long period of silence on the other end of the line – in fact, on both lines. He almost doesn’t catch it, but then he hears a soft tapping sound on the line, which makes him ask, “Hey, are you guys chatting with each other?”

 

There’s a long response before Makki replies with an unconvincing, “… No?”

 

Iwaizumi groans. “Guys, I’m serious here – “

 

“Wait, so, what makes you think this?” Mattsun cuts in.

 

Iwaizumi clamps up. He can’t possibly say, “Oh, because I can read minds now which means I know about all his sexual fantasies involving me and what he’d like me to do to him.” There’s a long pause on his end before he manages to say, “Uh, I’ve been picking up on some signs.”

 

“And you’re 100% sure about this?” Makki asks.

 

If only they were in front of him, Iwaizumi would be giving him the driest look he could muster. “I’m pretty sure,” he says.

 

There’s another long pause. Then he hears Mattsun let out a long, relieved-sounding exhale. “Well, that took you _forever_ to pick up on.” He lets out a small laugh. “Only took you what? Five, six years?

 

“Six,” Makki inputs helpfully.

 

As Makki and Mattsun joke about how he has the most dysfunctional radar in the world, Iwaizumi slumps against the bench, barely able to hold onto his phone.

 

He already had a feeling Oikawa was attracted to him. He had visible – or rather, mental – proof of it. But to hear it out loud and find out other people thought the same thing… now it felt more real. It wasn’t just him. Other people thought so too, and from the sound of it, they knew for quite a while before he did.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “ _Fuck.”_

 

“What’s wrong?” Mattsun asks.

 

Iwaizumi runs a hand through his hair. “Wait… what does this mean then?” he asks, the words just stumbling out of his frazzled mind.

 

“Hmm… I think that means Oikawa wants to bone you,” Makki suggests. Iwaizumi scowls. He already knew that, thanks, didn’t have to put that out there. “And, you know, be your boyfriend and be all domestic and hold hands and share popcorn…”

 

He’s trying to process what Makki is saying, but soon all he can think of is him and Oikawa over the years – at eight years old, practicing volleyball in the summer sun, the sleepovers at Oikawa’s house, sharing a futon during the winter, dinner with Oikawa’s family, Oikawa crying beside him as he receives his best setter award, sitting through another one of Oikawa’s shitty alien movies – this Oikawa, his best friend, the same one who stayed with him and passed him tissue paper under the bathroom stall the time he got diarrhea during a road trip for an out of town game – wants to be in a relationship _with him_.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

 

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Mattsun says slowly. “But… if you think about it. You guys are already doing all the domestic couple stuff like watching movies together, right? You already share an apartment, eat out together, share clothes…”

 

“Your mom and dad already see Oikawa as another son,” Makki adds helpfully. “I think they already like him more than you.”

 

“So yeah,” Mattsun concludes. “All you gotta do is make-out and do the sex stuff and you can officially call yourselves a couple.”

 

Iwaizumi’s face is on fire as Makki chimes in, “If it makes you feel better, that’s usually the easy part.”

 

He gives himself a minute to give his mind time to settle, leaning his head back so it’s hanging over the edge of the bench’s backrest. “How did you guys even know?” he asks. “He told you?”

 

“Uh, well, he’s never actually told me,” Makki admit. “I could just kinda pick it up over the years. You know, like, how he always used to pass to you the most.”

 

“Yeah,” Mattsun adds with a chuckle. “For a while, we were kind bitter about it, but then we realized it was also probably because he had a crush on you, so we got over it. That’s not something we can compete in, and something we wouldn’t even want to compete in.”

 

“W-what?” Iwaizumi sputters.

 

“And for me, it got kinda obvious last year,” Makki continues. “Around the time he found out you weren’t going to the same school, but you hadn’t told him where yet. He was super moping at the thought you might move across the country.”

 

Iwaizumi wrinkles his eyebrows. “He was sad when he found out you guys were moving too,” he argues.

 

“Yeah, but not as much as when it came to you,” Makki replies back easily. There’s a pause before he chuckles. “We’re all really good friends with Oikawa, we knows he likes us a lot – “

 

“But he likes you the most,” Mattsun finishes.

 

“Partly because, you know,” Makki says. “He wants to bone you.”

 

As his friends burst out laughing, Iwaizumi falls silent. He doesn’t like the thought of Makki and Mattsun thinking they’re somehow not as important as him, but he finds it hard to think or something to say to argue. They’re his closest friends, but if someone would ask him who his best friend was, he wouldn’t be able to deny that Oikawa is the first one that comes to mind. And he thinks it must be the same case for Oikawa.

 

“So anyway, since everyone’s here,” Mattsun starts. He can hear guns firing on one of the lines which means one of them must have been playing a game while on the phone. “Aside from this classic soap opera that is Oikawa’s life – what’s up guys?”

 

“Have you heard?” Makki asks, bursting out a laugh. “Kyotani has a girlfriend now?”

 

_“WHAT?”_

 

They soon slip into an easy conversation, and for a while, everything feels normal as they catch up, updating each other with what’s happening at their respective schools, and sharing the latest gossip from back home. Iwaizumi replies easily enough, filling in what’s happening with him and Oikawa, and when they end the call and promise to meet up back home when it’s the holidays, the buzzing thoughts that he had been able to push to the back of his mind take front and center again.

 

The fact is Oikawa doesn’t know that he’s aware of his feelings for him. And Oikawa, aside from the fact it’s clear he really wants to, isn’t actually acting on what he wants. Iwaizumi can only guess it’s because of fear of rejection, of him taking it badly, of changing the dynamic of their entire friendship. All very understandable hesitations, considering.

 

Which means it’s up to Iwaizumi to decide what to do next from here.

 

But first he’s got to sort out – does he like Oikawa back?

 

– – –

 

Later when he gets to his apartment, as he slots his keys into the lock, Iwaizumi realizes he hasn’t checked his phone in a while. He pulls it out and sees a couple of new messages from Oikawa he hadn’t read yet.

 

_What time are you getting home?_

 

_Have you eaten? I’m starving!_

He’s reading through the other messages about how Oikawa’s thinking of ordering Chinese as he opens the door, and he jumps back in surprise when Oikawa pops his head from their kitchenette and says proudly, “I cooked dinner!”

 

His hand is still holding the doorknob as a cold pit of dread settles in Iwaizumi’s stomach. The last time Oikawa made anything in the kitchen, he had mixed up the sugar and the salt, which had led to an inedible batch of cookies that even the birds at the park didn’t touch when they tried to feed them with it.

 

“What…?”

 

Oikawa steps out of the kitchenette holding a pot as his other hand mixes what’s inside with a wooden mixing spoon. He proudly holds it out to Iwaizumi.

 

“I made curry!” he says. “I know it’s one of your favorites.”

 

“Uh, Oikawa, are you sure…”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Just try it.”

 

Oikawa stops mixing to leave spoon in the pot so he could use his free hand to pull Iwaizumi to the kitchen counter and force him onto one of the stools. Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa turns around and takes out two small bowls from one of the cabinets and scoops rice into one from he rice cooker. He then sets it in front of Iwaizumi as he takes the pot of curry and serves some on top of the rice.

 

Iwaizumi picks up a spoon and looks up at Oikawa. “Do I really have to – “

 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms.

 

He stares down at the bowl of curry. Despite the actual fear he feels in his gut about Oikawa ruining one of his favorite dishes, he has to admit it looks just fine – in fact, pretty good. The curry is a nice color brown with an even sprinkle of spices, the vegetables don’t look raw, the small chunks of meat look cooked, and the steam emanating from the bowl makes it look even more enticing than he had expected. He takes a deep breath and scoops out a spoonful and gives it one last glance before placing it in his mouth.

 

His eyes widen as he stares down at the bowl.

 

It’s actually good.

 

Oikawa leans forward so he can prop a hand on the counter and rest his chin on it. He smiles at Iwaizumi, almost like he already knows what he’s thinking.

 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” he asks.

 

Iwaizumi looks up at him and takes note of Oikawa’s appearance for the first time. He’s wearing an actual apron and even his light brown bangs are swept back with a red bandana, tied like those 60s housewives with a small bow on top of his head. He almost wants to admit it looks kind of cute. But aside from that, he notices the sheen of sweat on Oikawa’s cheeks and down the line of his neck, his flushed skin, and how his hair looks just a bit messier than he usually keeps it.

 

He had been very careful and had put a lot of time into this.

 

Iwaizumi’s cheeks redden at the thought of Oikawa putting so much effort into making this for him. They redden even more when he thinks back to what Mattsun had said about how him and Oikawa are already doing relationship-like things with each other. Guess he can add cooking for each other on that list.

 

Oikawa’s eyes widen slightly and he lets out a laugh. “You’re starting to get red!” he says gleefully.

 

“W-what?” Iwaizumi sputters, nearly choking on his next spoonful. He has to control himself from covering his face with his hand.

 

Oikawa inches his face closer, a knowing grin on his face. “Are you beginning to realize how much of a catch I am?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “Handsome, athletic, smart – and now, a good cook?”

 

Iwaizumi stares at him as his face grows even redder. Oikawa’s always been a flirt; he probably doesn’t even realize when he’s saying things that sound flirtatious because he most likely can’t tell the difference anymore. But him saying things like that… it only makes Iwaizumi think he really must be right he is about how Oikawa feels for him.

 

He quickly looks away from Oikawa and busies himself with scooping more rice into his bowl. “Whatever,” he says. “The time you burned our ramen when you forgot to look after the water says otherwise. Or when you tried frying an egg but forgot to put the cooking oil.”

 

Oikawa whines, “Iwa-chan, you’re not supposed to remember things like that!”

 

He pouts, but watches as Iwaizumi takes his empty bowl and scoops some rice into it before sliding it to him. Oikawa scoops some curry for himself and leans against the counter as he digs into his bowl, letting out a small cheer for himself as he tastes how good it is.

 

“But okay,” Iwaizumi says, not looking as Oikawa turns to look at him. “This is good.”

 

Oikawa beams at him.

 

Iwaizumi looks down at his bowl as he takes another spoonful, still not looking at Oikawa in case his face burst to flames. As he eats, there’s a warm, comfortable feeling he gets in his chest – a mix of pride and fondness and affection, and it travels through his entire body and he’s left with an overall feeling of contentment, there, in his tiny kitchenette, eating curry at half past midnight.

 

He’s just not sure if it’s coming from him or from Oikawa.

 

– – –

 

They’re at a supermarket and there’s a girl down their aisle who’s wearing a very low-cut top and Oikawa is wondering what it’d be like to look down her shirt. Of course Iwaizumi knows this because he can see it in his head. It’s very immature, very horny-teenage-boy-hitting-puberty level kind of thoughts, and Iwaizumi would be rolling his eyes at Oikawa if the same thought hadn’t crossed his mind earlier when he first saw her.

 

His mind reading ability has gifted him with the realization that men are pigs, and that he, as much as he tries not to be, is one of them.

 

He’s in no position to get annoyed whenever he finds out Oikawa is thinking about sex because he has them too, and now, recently, they’re involving Oikawa. Just a few days ago they had dropped by a convenience store to buy soft serve ice cream, and just the sight of Oikawa’s tongue hurriedly licking the dripping vanilla ice cream off his cone was enough to send Iwaizumi into a coughing fit in the middle of the store.

 

He’s been reduced to the likes of a horny teenage boy obsessed with phallic shapes and figures.

 

He groans and drops his head between his two arms holding on to the shopping cart handle.

 

Oikawa returns from the cereal aisle and drops some boxes into the cart. He flicks Iwaizumi’s ear, and after the sting of pain, it sends shivers down Iwaizumi’s spine.

 

“Iwa-chan,” he says lightly. “You okay?”

 

Iwaizumi picks his head up and shrugs Oikawa off. “Yeah,” he mutters, pushing the cart down the main aisle.

 

He stops by the shampoo section and Oikawa waits by the cart and checks his phone as he heads over to get a bottle of the same shampoo he’s been using since he was a kid. He doesn’t bother getting one for Oikawa since he uses shampoo that costs three times the price and buys it only from a specialty boutique store. When he heads back to the cart, Oikawa steps to the side so he can hold onto the handle and continue pushing.

 

He’s about to turn the aisle when Oikawa lets out what sounds like a hiss. He looks up and isn’t even surprised when he sees the object of Oikawa’s ire just a few aisles down – Ushijima.

 

Ushijima doesn’t notice them at first as he’s placing a box of laundry detergent into his basket. But when he looks up, it’s actually impossible to know if he sees or recognizes them because the stony, impassive expression on his face doesn’t change until he says, “Oh, hi, Iwaizumi, Oikawa.”

 

Iwaizumi is about to wave when Oikawa latches onto his arm and clings next to him, and Iwaizumi swears he lets out another hiss.

 

“What are you doing here, Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa asks, an accusing tone in his voice.

 

Ushijima ignores him completely as walks up to them and turns to Iwaizumi. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to apologize to you, Iwaizumi,” Ushijima says. Beside him, Iwaizumi can feel Oikawa about to throw a tantrum for being ignored. “I went to the infirmary, but Oikawa wouldn’t let me into the room.”

 

“Just the sight of you would have been enough to send Iwa-chan into another concussion,” Oikawa says, narrowing his eyes at Ushijima. “So of course I wasn’t going to put you anywhere near – “

 

“It’s fine,” Iwaizumi replies to Ushijima, ignoring Oikawa also while trying to pull his arm out of Oikawa’s grip at the same time. He waves his free hand in the air. “It was an accident. Sucked, but, you know, it happens.”

 

He says it normally, but a part of Iwaizumi wishes he could grab Ushijima by the collar of shirt and yell, ‘DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME?’

 

But of course, everyone has thoughts that they don’t actually act on; the kinds that cross your mind and pass as fast as they come. Besides, he’s never actually thought of Ushijima to be a mean-spirited person – he’s under no illusion that Oikawa is more petty and more of an asshole with a tendency to hurt or offend people than Ushijima is – so he knows without having to read his mind that Ushijima is guilty about what happened, even though his face lacks the emotional capability to show it.

 

“How is Keio?” Ushijima asks. “I look forward to our first real game together.”

 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to reply but stops when an image floats into his mind – and he’s back in the practice game. Only this time he’s seeing it from the other side of the court. He sees himself, Sawamura – and he sees Oikawa at his side so this means he must be seeing it through Ushijima’s point of view. At first he’s curious about what Ushijima’s thinking, but then he’s not at all that surprised when he finds out it’s all just analyzing how Keio’s team is performing, the set plays they’re making, and particular players he notes that could be troublesome in the future. Although he takes note of the last bit so he can bring it up during the next team practice.

 

He blinks and he’s back in the supermarket and Ushijima is watching him expectantly for his answer.

 

“Yeah, me too,” he supplies just in time. “Can’t wait to kick your ass.”

 

There’s a small quirk in Ushijima’s lips that betrays the emotionless look on his face before he nods. He opens his mouth to say something else but is cut off when Oikawa goes, “Okay, let’s go Iwa-chan!” and yanks onto Iwaizumi’s arm as he pushes the cart back down the aisle. Iwaizumi manages to turn around and nod a goodbye to Ushijima who gives one in return before he turns around and continues with his groceries.

 

Iwaizumi turns back to Oikawa as he continues dragging him down the opposite aisle. “You’re so immature,” he mutters, finally managing to yank his arm out of Oikawa’s hold so he could walk normally beside him. “How have you not moved on? You’re already team mates.”

 

“Actually,” Oikawa says defensively. “We talk just fine at school. He once asked me where the science department was and I actually gave him the right directions.”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at him. “Wow, very mature.”

 

Iwaizumi parks the cart to the side by the instant noodles and pasta aisle and walks over to the usual ramen brand they buy. When he pulls out a few packs, he notices that Oikawa has fallen silent. He looks back and sees him looking down at his shoes, a small frown on his face.

 

“I guess it’s because…” Oikawa pauses and closes his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Ushiwaka’s just… this walking, physical reminder that no matter how hard I try, someone’s going to be better than me.”

 

His scowl deepens as he says angrily, “Him and Tobio-chan.” He looks up at Iwaizumi. “You know, he hasn’t even apologized yet about the whole – “ He stops to mimic Ushijima’s voice, “You should have come to Shiratorizawa, worthless pride thing!”

 

Iwaizumi winces, and he does feel the flare of anger against Ushijima as he remembers, but then he stops. He sighs. “Yeah, that was an asshole thing to do, but,” he stops as he tries to piece his words together. “You know Ushiwaka, if he thinks he’s right, he’s not gonna apologize for it. So, I don’t think you should be expecting one and just… move on.”

 

Oikawa is full on pouting in the supermarket and doesn’t say anything.

 

Iwaizumi isn’t even surprised when he’s suddenly in Oikawa’s thoughts as he thinks about Ushijima. It figures Oikawa would be thinking about him since they were just talking about him.

 

At first his thoughts start out petty – like stealing Ushijima’s socks so he has to practice without any socks on, interrupting Ushijima as he confesses to some girl by making out with her right in front of him, or tripping him on the way to the gym. The next is set in what looks like their gym’s locker room, and Iwaizumi’s wondering what Oikawa has planned in there when all of a sudden Ushijima is shoving Oikawa against the lockers, the metal clanging from the weight of Oikawa’s back. It almost looks like Ushijima was about to beat him into the lockers – if he wasn’t three fingers deep in Oikawa.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes need to take a few seconds to process what he’s seeing.

 

Oikawa lets out a sharp gasp and his hands move to grip the collar of Ushijima’s shirt before yanking him closer, letting Ushijima mash his lips against Oikawa’s, forcefully opening his mouth and thrusting his tongue in. The leg Ushijima was lifting up tightens its hold behind Ushijima’s back and Ushijima pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in, and Oikawa’s entire body jerks before he bites Ushijima’s lip hard enough to draw blood. When Ushijima pulls back, there’s blood on his lip, and Oikawa stares at him defiantly.

 

There’s a fire in Ushijima’s eyes as he manhandles Oikawa to the tiled floor and Oikawa lets out a pained sound as his back hits the tiles.

 

“Fuck you,” Oikawa spits out, but he spreads his legs as Ushijima settles between them and drops his pants. As soon as Ushijima pulls off his shirt, Oikawa’s hands reach up to grasp his wide shoulders and Ushijima wastes no time in shoving himself to the hilt inside Oikawa.

 

Oikawa’s eyes slide closed as his head drops back against the tiles, sliding an inch against the floor every time Ushijima fucks into him. His mouth is a perfect ‘o’ shape, his nails leaving sharp red lines against Ushijima’s back. As his hips shove against Oikawa’s, Ushijima ducks his head low against Oikawa’s shoulder, sucking a bruise into Oikawa’s collarbone.

 

Suddenly, Oikawa’s leg grips around Ushijima’s waist and he flips them over, Ushijima still inside him as his back hits the tiles. Ushijima lets out a sharp gasp of pain, which is cut off into a moan as Oikawa pulls out just enough so only the head is inside him – then slams back down, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the empty locker room as Oikawa rides him, gyrating his hips each time he comes down.

 

There’s nothing affectionate or loving about the two of them. It’s rough and physical, on the verge of being painful – it’s hate sex.

 

Oikawa’s imagined having hate sex with Ushijima.

 

Iwaizumi blinks and he’s back in the supermarket. Oikawa is beside him; his head tilted to the side as he reads the ingredient details of a chocolate bar, and Iwaizumi pulls his eyes away and steadfastly looks down at their groceries. As he stares deeply at his bottle of shampoo, he’s struck with the realization that maybe he had jumped the gun on this whole Oikawa-having-feelings-for-him thing.

 

He’s only seen Oikawa’s thoughts of the two of them having sex. But Oikawa is a sexually active young man – he thinks about sex often like most young men do, hell, he’s thought about having sex with Ushijima, someone he claims to hate with the fire of three suns. Just because Oikawa’s imagined having sex with him doesn’t mean he actually _likes_ him in that ‘I-want-to-be-your-boyfriend’ kind of way. Hell, he’s had _actual_ sex with people that he doesn’t like enough to see the next morning.

 

There’s a weird mix of emotions stirring inside him.

 

There’s relief; his shoulders feel lighter at the thought that nothing has to change between him and Oikawa. He can go back to the way things were before. Nothing’s changed. There’s no feeling of responsibility for him to have to decide what to have to next, to act or not act on something. He also kind of wants to laugh at himself over how much he overthought everything.

 

And of course, as much as he wants to think it isn’t there, there’s a gnawing in his chest that he’s trying to ignore. He doesn’t really understand why he’s feeling it. He doesn’t even _know_ what he feels for Oikawa but the realization that Oikawa doesn’t actually want anything from him (aside from sex, which he wants with a lot of people) makes his chest hurt.

 

He lets out a laugh.

 

No, he’s lying to himself. Of course the reason why he’s feeling this is because, somehow, and he didn’t know how it happened, a part of him wouldn’t have minded being with Oikawa in the… more-than-friends-plus-sex kind of way. Being his… boyfriend. And of course he realizes this just as he finds out Oikawa might not actually want the same thing – or rather, he only really thinks about the sex part.

 

“Can we get this, Iwa-chan?”

 

He turns and sees Oikawa holding up the chocolate bar, the smile on his face the one he usually gives when he wants something from someone.

 

He looks away. “Yeah, whatever.”

 

Oikawa lets out a small cheer and thanks him with a hug, but he quickly pulls Oikawa’s arms off. “Cut it out,” he says gruffly.

 

Oikawa’s arms drops to his sides and pouts. “I was just thanking you for saying yes this _one_ time,” he muttered, tossing the chocolate bar into the cart. “So mean, Iwa-chan.”

 

He doesn’t reply and instead starts placing all the groceries onto the counter. As the cashier takes each of them through the scanner and packs them into the brown paper bags, Iwaizumi pulls out of his phone. Oikawa is chatting with the cashier, so he’s able to text the group chat he has with Makki and Mattun without him seeing.

 

**Iwaizumi:** _Never mind. We’re all wrong about the Oikawa thing._

Only a few seconds pass until their replies come in.

 

 **Makki:** _What happened??_

 

 **Mattsun:** _Why?_

 

His reply is short.

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _Because he’s Oikawa._

 

He doesn’t add, _And maybe I was assuming what I just wanted to assume_. He slips his phone back in his pocket as he pays and he can feel the constant vibration as a flurry of messages come in.

 

As he walks home, not really listening to Oikawa talk about something beside him, he realizes he’s had this mind reading ability for about almost a month now. While he isn’t able to fully control it, he has learned a few things on how to make it more bearable – like how to drone out other people so he doesn’t have a hornet’s nest of thoughts in his head, or how to be more careful not to mention something he doesn’t want to know about because asking would prompt a person to think about it – but he’s still learning new things from it.

 

Like how reading minds isn’t the same as reading people.

 

– – –

 

Iwaizumi isn’t usually one to succumb to bouts of pettiness – that’s Oikawa’s forte – but for next week or so, he tries to find ways to avoid being around Oikawa. He knows Oikawa’s done nothing wrong, so it makes him feel even more guilty for intentionally not talking to him or hanging out with him, but he really just feels he needs some time to himself to properly adjust back to how everything was before, and being around Oikawa makes it hard to do so.

 

Yes, he’s fully aware he’s exhibiting the symptoms and actions of someone whose gotten his heart broken – even though it actually hasn’t been broken. But no one said self-preservation instincts made any sense.

 

He stays a little longer after practice to work on his serves or do some extra drills. He goes out to more of the drinking sessions or the dinners after practice with his team mates. When Oikawa texts him he’ll be coming home late, he comes home early so by the time Oikawa gets back, he’s already willed himself to sleep. It’s petty, immature, and he’s torn between feeling better from it and hating it.

 

But it’s all working really well. Iwaizumi figures he’s about half way there before he can start hanging out with Oikawa again when Oikawa corners him during breakfast one morning, snatching the box of cereal off the counter right before he could get a hold on it. He blames the fact his reflexes aren’t as sharp given it’s barely six am.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks, stifling a yawn.

 

“There’s a cool party this weekend I’ve been wanting to go to,” Oikawa says from the other side of the counter top, fully awake despite it being only six in the morning. He sets the box of cereal close in front of him, away from Iwaizumi’s reach like he wants his full attention. “Wanna come? They can let us bring people from other schools – they’ll forgive you for going to Keio if you’re with me – so you wanna go?”

 

Iwaizumi groans. “Oikawa – “

 

“You could meet a lot of cool people,” Oikawa quickly adds. He pauses, and his voice grows softer. “Or, you know, we could hang out. It feels like it’s been a while.”

 

Oikawa smiles at him, and the hope is so evident on his face that it cuts through Iwaizumi’s chest because he knows he’s going to say no and dash his hopes. He feels guilty enough that he looks away when he says, “No thanks. I kinda just want to stay in on Saturday. I’ve been coming home late for the past week now.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Oikawa says, and it’s so soft Iwaizumi barely catches it. Because Oikawa’s always been so obvious with his emotions, the drop in his shoulders is evident, but he keeps the small smile on his face as he slides the box of cereal over to him. “Here you go.”

 

Iwaizumi nods his thanks as Oikawa pushes himself off the counter. “I’ll go get ready for class,” he says, giving a small wave over his shoulder. “See ya.”

 

He watches as the bathroom door closes before he sighs, his chest heavy. He doesn’t really feel like having cereal now.

 

– – –

 

By the time Saturday night rolls in, Iwaizumi is lying down on the couch, watching a cooking show contest. Oikawa comes out of the bedroom, dressed in a black shirt and dark jeans, and putting on a navy blue bomber jacket.

 

“Going already?” Iwaizumi asks, just to fill the weird silence, changing the channel when the contestant he doesn’t like looks like he’s going to win the challenge.

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, stopping by the entry way as he chooses which pair of his sneakers to wear. “Kuroo asked we meet up at his apartment first and we’d go there together.”

 

“Okay,” Iwaizumi replies awkardly, stopping at a nature channel when he sees it playing something about sharks.

 

“What about you?”

 

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Some of my teammates are going to a party too,” he says. “But practice was moved to early tomorrow morning, so I’m really just staying in tonight.”

 

Oikawa nods as he picks a pair of white sneakers. He glances back at Iwaizumi before he sits down and starts putting them on. “Sure you don’t wanna come with me?” he asks over his shoulder.

 

Iwaizumi starts thinking about a loud, sweaty party and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. He also think about seeing Oikawa with some guy or girl and the more he doesn’t want to go.

 

“No, I’m good.”

 

Oikawa gives him a sad smile. “Alright.”

 

Iwaizumi turns back to focus on his show when a picture starts forming in his mind. He’s in their apartment, lying down exactly where he is, Oikawa exactly where he is, but then he hears himself say, “Do you wanna stay in?”

 

Oikawa looks up from the floor, his hands holding onto the laces of his sneakers.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ll order pizza and we can rewatch that movie you wanted,” Iwaizumi continues.

 

Oikawa’s eyes are wide, clearly not expecting the offer, but they slowly soften as a smile warms itself onto his face.

 

“Sure,” he says, getting up and toeing his shoes off. “I can be a good friend and sacrifice my social life to stay with a hermit.”

 

The Iwaizumi in Oikawa’s thought snorts, and as Oikawa makes his way to the couch, he watches himself sit up as Oikawa stops in front of him. Slowly, Oikawa bends down to straddle his waist, two knees at both of Iwaizumi’s sides, his thighs resting on top of his. Iwaizumi watches as he sees himself lean back against the couch and settle his hands on Oikawa’s hips, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

 

“Actually,” Oikawa says softly, a grin on his face. “I was really hoping you’d ask that.”

 

He leans back a bit to shrug his jacket off to the floor. When his arms are free, he shifts closer as he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and bends down, pressing his lips against Iwaizumi’s, his hands running through his hair as he tilts Iwaizumi’s head back to lean against the backrest.

 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth for Oikawa, letting him slip his tongue inside and meet his. His hands move up and down Oikawa’s back before slipping beneath his jeans, where he realizes Oikawa’s not wearing anything underneath when his hands grip the smooth skin of his ass. He closes his eyes as Oikawa devours his lips, and when his hands slip further down so his finger brushes against the puckered entrance, Iwaizumi gets a thrill at the gasp that comes out of Oikawa as the sensitive skin clenches reflexively around his finger, as if asking for it.

 

Oikawa pulls back, his eyes closed and chest heaving as he visibly tries to control himself. He opens his eyes and his pupils are blown wide with want.

 

“Later,” he says, his breath warm against Iwaizumi’s lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

“Why not now?” Iwaizumi hears himself ask, and he feels his face grow hot at the desire in his voice, or rather, the desire Oikawa wishes him to have.

 

“Pushy,” Oikawa chuckles, pulling his arms back to rest his hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders. Slowly, he pushes Iwaizumi down against the couch, and they’re repositioning themselves until Iwaizumi is on his back, his head resting against the armrest. Oikawa shifts his weight so he’s lying comfortably on top him, his head against Iwaizumi’s chest and worming his arms to wrap behind Iwaizumi’s back. Their legs are tangled with each other’s, and Oikawa turns his head to face the television.

 

“I just want to stay like this for a while first,” Oikawa mumbles against his shirt.

 

Iwaizumi watches as he bends one arm behind his head while the other settles itself on Oikawa’s head, slowly running his fingers through Oikawa’s soft, expensively shampoo-washed hair. He hears Oikawa sigh as he wraps his arms tighter around Iwaizumi’s body, soaking in the the weight and warmth of each other.

 

“Actually, I think I can stay like this for the rest of the weekend,” Oikawa murmurs, and when he laughs, Iwaizumi can feel the rumble of his chest against his. “And maybe until Wednesday.”

 

There’s something about this scenario, that Oikawa would just imagine the two of them snuggling together, watching a documentary about bees, on a Saturday night, that catches him off guard in a way all of Oikawa’s sexual fantasies don’t.

 

Maybe he was wrong for a second time.

 

The vision gets cut short as Oikawa clears his throat, and Iwaizumi is back in their living room, lying alone on the couch. He looks up and sees that Oikawa’s done putting on his shoes, and there’s a blush in his cheeks as he looks for his set of keys by the console table.

 

“Okay, I’m going,” he says when he finds them. He steps toward the door –

 

“Oikawa!”

 

Oikawa stops. He looks back at him, tilting his head with a curious look on his face, and Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, completely unprepared for what to do next. He didn’t even realize he had called Oikawa’s name out until his name left his mouth.

 

“Uh,” he says, more seconds passing until he clears his throat. He feels himself start to sweat. “Do you, uh, do you wanna stay in? I’m thinking of ordering a pizza.”

 

He pauses, sees the way Oikawa’s eyes widen, but he still doesn’t say anything, like he’s having a hard time believing what he’s hearing.

 

So Iwaizumi is forced to fill the silence, “And, uh, we can rewatch that movie you keep talking about?”

 

He knows Oikawa must be so shocked because he doesn’t even look away when a blush envelops his entire face, all the way up to his ears.

 

“Uh, really?” he stammers, his face growing even redder. “You sure? I mean, you really want to?”

 

The nervousness is contagious because Iwaizumi can’t help but stammer too when he replies, “Uh, yeah, I mean – you’re the one, you know, going out.” He pauses, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He tries to do a nonchalant shrug, but it looks more like an awkward jerk of his shoulder. “So uh, if you’re okay with cancelling your plans, but I know you’ve been looking forward – “

 

“I don’t mind,” Oikawa says, and he stops when he realizes he must have replied too quickly for someone who should be disappointed for missing a party he had been looking forward to going to just earlier. “I mean, if it’s okay with you – “

 

“Yeah, it’s fine – “

 

“Okay – “

 

“Okay.”

 

They stare at each other for a few more seconds until Oikawa looks away, bending down to remove his shoes. He clears his throat and walks over to him, and Iwaizumi belatedly realizes there isn’t much space for him to sit and quickly shuffles to the side to make room. Oikawa sits down beside him, his hands clasped tightly together between his knees before he realizes he still has his jacket on, so quickly takes it off.

 

Just because he needs something to do with his hands, Iwaizumi pulls his phone from his pocket.

 

“I’ll order now,” he says, quickly dialing the pizza place they usually order from. He presses his phone to his ear. “Half Hawaiian, half pepperoni?”

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, a shy curve on his lips as he watches Iwaizumi order. “Oh,” he says, getting up from the couch. “I’ll prepare the movie while you order.”

 

He leaves to go to the bedroom and Iwaizumi’s shoulders relax almost instantly as he’s left alone in the living room. He orders the pizza in peace and when Oikawa comes back to the living room, he’s already out of his jeans and in a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, holding onto his laptop. He bends in front of the TV and plugs the connector to his laptop and Iwaizumi is treated to the sight of his 90s X-Files desktop wallpaper before the movie plays.

 

The pizza arrives thirty minutes later and soon they’re both slumped against the couch and in the middle of their movie, eating their respective pizzas – Iwaizumi, pepperoni, Oikawa, his Hawaiian, since Iwaizumi can’t stand pineapples on pizza. Iwaizumi sets a hand on the couch to balance himself when he reaches for another slice of pizza, and has to control himself from jumping in surprise when he feels it brush against Oikawa’s.

 

Sometime in the middle of everything, Oikawa had pressed himself closer to him, closer than he usually sat. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he had done it unconsciously or on purpose.

 

Swallowing, Iwaizumi keeps his hand in its place as he takes another piece of pizza and leans back against the couch. He notices the way that Oikawa has stopped eating the slice of pizza in his hand and is nervously biting down on his bottom lip instead. Nothing particularly tense is happening on the screen, so he doesn’t think it has anything to do with the movie.

 

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “Are you, uh, really okay you’re not going to the party?”

 

Oikawa sets his slice of pizza down on the box and opens his mouth to reply, but then he stops. Iwaizumi is just watching him when suddenly Oikawa sighs dramatically and collapses on top of him, resting his entire weight against him until Iwaizumi finds himself lying horizontally on the couch with Oikawa on top of him. He automatically thinks back to the vision he had seen earlier.

 

“Quiet, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, not really answering, but not looking up at him as he speaks. “It’s getting to the good part.” He shifts his head on Iwaizumi’s chest and reaches over to pick up the unfinished slice of pizza and continues eating it, obviously making himself comfortable.

 

Iwaizumi swallows the last of his pizza, and while he would like to have another, he’s too busy trying to control his heartbeat knowing that Oikawa’s ear is pressed right against it. Given he already finished his slice of pizza, he now has no idea what to do with his hands – set them on the couch? Tuck it somewhere between the backrest and his body? Oikawa did this all the time, why had this come so naturally to him before? What did he used to do before?

 

He tries to lift his hands up and fold them behind his head, but he isn’t able to move both of them much with Oikawa’s weight on his upper body, so he sets them back down. He notices that Oikawa is blissfully unaware of his dilemma, chewing his pizza with his eyes focused on the television. Iwaizumi gnaws his bottom lip, wondering what the hell he’s doing, before slowly lowering his hands, tucking one beside his body while the other is hovering just above Oikawa.

 

If he sets it on his shoulder, his arm would be covering Oikawa’s view of the television, if on the space of his chest between Oikawa and his chin, his arm would be bent in an awkward angle. He sighs when there’s no other choice but to set it down on Oikawa’s head.

 

He can feel Oikawa freeze as his hair slips between Iwaizumi’s fingers and he’s cursing himself and already pulling his hand back when Oikawa lifts his chin and suddenly they’re looking at each other, his hand still in Oikawa’s hair. The look in Oikawa’s eyes churns something in his stomach and he doesn’t know if he should be saying something, but then Oikawa pulls his eyes away and settles his head back against Iwaizumi’s chest.

 

He speaks so softly that Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he imagined it or not.

 

“Don’t stop,” he says.

 

He’s pretty sure he heard it; so he doesn’t. He gives himself a few seconds before he moves his fingers to softly massage Oikawa’s head, and he can feel Oikawa’s shoulders relax beneath his arm as he lets out a soft sigh. Iwaizumi doesn’t try to think too much about everything; he already has too many thoughts that aren’t even his running through his head everyday. All he knows is that there’s a comfortable warmth slowly filling his chest and spreading through his entire body, filling him with a desire to just stay there for the rest of the night, even though the credits of their movie is already playing. He’s just not sure if it’s coming from Oikawa or from him.

 

No, he’s lying to himself again.

 

It’s coming from him.

 

– – –

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... a lot happened here. 
> 
> Please let me know you think! And, for real this time, just one more chapter to go. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how work gets in the way and then when you try to write suddenly the momentum's gone that everything comes out crappy and you're like ehhh I'll put it off for when I'm in the mood but then work acts up again and then when you are in the mood, you're tired because you get home at 1AM from work and time passes by and suddenly it's November. So yeah, that's what happened.
> 
> Also lol looks like this is gonna be 4 chapters. I'm serious though about this one.

 

– – –

 

Because Oikawa has always lacked an awareness and consideration for other people’s personal space, this makes him a very touchy and very physical person. He probably isn’t even aware of it, but he always has an arm slung over someone’s shoulder, is always patting someone’s back, and is always sidling up close whenever someone wanted to show him something on their phone. It’s no wonder being a flirt comes to naturally to him. He did this with everyone, and after years of first-hand experience, Iwaizumi wasn’t that dense not to be aware that Oikawa did this to him the most.

 

And he never thought much of it. It was just Oikawa being Oikawa. After all, he is Oikawa’s best friend, he spent the most time around him, was closest to him physically and figuratively, so it made sense.

 

But after that night on the couch, something’s different. And even if he couldn’t read minds, it was obvious enough for Iwaizumi to notice the shift in the way Oikawa acted around and toward him.

 

When they decide to study at a café one weekend, Iwaizumi sits down first to save a table while Oikawa gets their order. He’s skimming through his notes when Oikawa comes back with their drinks – for Iwaizumi, a regular café mocha, for himself, a low-fat green tea soy latte with extra whipped cream and matcha powder sprinkled on top – and when Oikawa moves to take his seat, Iwaizumi expects him to take his usual place across him. But instead he joins him in the booth, and slides close enough that they’re touching from hip to thigh. And he stays there the entire time, a warm weight pressed against Iwaizumi’s side, and every time Oikawa turns the page of his book, his hand brushes against Iwaizumi’s wrist. When Oikawa crosses his leg over the other under the table, Iwaizumi can feel his shoe brush against the strip of skin between his sock and his jeans rolled just above his ankle. And as they study, he feels it glance his leg every once in a while. 

 

One night when he’s lying on the couch and watching television, Oikawa comes out of the bathroom fresh from his shower, his towel around his neck and water dripping from the ends of his hair onto his shoulders. The condensation fogs up his glasses, so he pulls them from his eyes and wipes them clear with the hem of his old shirt as he squints at the television screen.

 

“What are you watching?” he asks as he walks toward him.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes are still on the screen as he sits up and moves to make room for Oikawa. He sets his elbow on the armrest and leans against it. “Pacific Rim – “

 

But instead of taking the space Iwaizumi had just vacated for him, Oikawa sits right beside him, just barely on top of his lap, stretching his legs onto the rest of the couch as he leans back against Iwaizumi, resting his head half on Iwaizumi’s chest and half on his shoulder.

                                                                                                   

“I love this movie,” Oikawa comments, tucking one arm under himself as he settles the other one over Iwaizumi’s stomach.

                                                                                                                     

Oikawa nestles his head to a more comfortable position on his chest, and Iwaizumi would have been internally panicking about the fact they were practically _snuggling?!?_ if not for the fact that Oikawa had been doing this more and more the past week. Sure, he used to lean against Iwaizumi before, or rest his head on his shoulder, or fall asleep on him when he was especially tired. But snuggling? Hugging him while snuggling? While awake? And sometimes lying down and resting his head on his lap just to watch television? No, these were all new.

 

But Iwaizumi’s well aware that while it throws him off guard every time Oikawa does this, he knows it’s not like he’s told Oikawa to stop or made any attempt to get Oikawa off him. And the arm he currently has draped over Oikawa’s side, and his hand resting just above the exposed skin where Oikawa’s shirt has ridden up, aren’t exactly telling him to go away.

 

There’s a lingering feeling in his gut telling him to sort this all out – but he keeps pushing it away and putting it off for later.

 

Because while some things are changing, some things don’t.

 

Oikawa still goes out on Friday or Saturday nights and comes back in the middle of the night or early hours of the next day. A couple times he’s woken Iwaizumi up at two or three in the morning when he stumbles into their bedroom, smelling of sex and someone else’s cologne or perfume. Iwaizumi has never given it a second thought before; Oikawa’s just out having fun like any young adult male in college is wont to do.

 

But sometimes, right before he falls asleep, Oikawa recalls the event of his night and unfortunately, Iwaizumi catches a glimpse of who he had been with, what they had looked like, and what they had done. And while it’s never bothered him before, Iwaizumi knows it means something that now, whenever it happens, he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to go to sleep, or sometimes he barks at Oikawa to take a shower to jolt his thoughts into thinking of something else.

 

– – –

 

One day, Oikawa comes home relatively early from a night out. It’s early because Iwaizumi is still in the living room watching TV. He looks up as Oikawa slips off his shoes and walks over to the couch, slumping onto the other side. He props his elbow on the armrest and rests his head on his hand. He looks like a picture of nonchalance, but there’s a thrum of anxiety that Iwaizumi can feel coming from him. He’s restless about something.

 

When Oikawa doesn’t say anything, Iwaizumi turns back to the television. After knowing Oikawa for so long, he’s come to recognize the moments when he has to pry something out of his best friend and when to just give small probes and let him be until he speaks. His instinct tells him this time it’s the latter.

 

“You’re back early,” he comments.

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa murmurs. His eyes are focused on the screen and it looks like he’s trying to pay attention to what’s playing, but he soon gives up and gets to his feet. He walks over to their kitchenette and pours himself some water, taking a sip as he walks back to the couch.

 

Iwaizumi hadn’t asked him what happened but it figures that because he commented on it, Oikawa would start thinking about it. And he does. That’s how Iwaizumi sees the image of Oikawa sitting on a bar stool, his elbow resting against the bar counter with his head propped up on his hand. There’s a coy smile on his face as he looks up at a guy who’s standing in the space between his legs, and whose hand is running higher and higher up his thigh.

 

The sight leaves a foul taste in Iwaizumi’s mouth. He wants to change the topic to have Oikawa think of something else, but then Oikawa sets his glass of water down on the coffee table and sits back on the couch, and the image disappears on its own. The nerves Iwaizumi feels emanating from Oikawa grow stronger, the thrum of energy swelling until it feels like his own heart is clenched in someone’s fist. His hands even start to feel clammy. What had happened?

 

“The… guy I was with,” Oikawa says all of a sudden. He pauses as he swallows, his eyes still firmly on the television screen. “Said he wasn’t looking for a top tonight. So that ended things pretty quickly.”

 

Iwaizumi turns to him, his eyes growing wide.

 

Oikawa never actually shared the details of the people he hooked up with; often it was just a casual mention that he was ‘with someone’, usually in the middle of a conversation before they moved onto the actual topic they were talking about. Or it was part of his usual general teasing that he had more ‘experience’ than Iwaizumi. And while Iwaizumi has already seen Oikawa hooking up with other men through his thoughts – this was actually the first time Oikawa was bringing the topic out in the open; the first time he’s ever shared out loud to him that he’s also been with guys.

 

Iwaizumi sits up straight. Oikawa clears his throat, licking his lips nervously. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his hand clenching atop the arm rest, and still unable to look at Iwaizumi in the eye as he speaks.

 

“I, uh,” Oikawa winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told him I’ve never bottomed before and I’d only do it if I…”

 

He pauses again, looking pained and nervous and embarrassed all at the same time. “I’d only do it if I really know and trust the person. So, given we only just met tonight…”

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Iwaizumi finally manages to blurt out.

 

He pretty much forgets the rest of what he has to say from how fast Oikawa turns to him, eyes wide, like he’s holding onto his every word. And the look on Oikawa’s face makes it so obvious that he’s grateful that Iwaizumi’s finally said something, and he feels in his own chest Oikawa’s relief that he isn’t yelling or disgusted or pushing him away. And it kills Iwaizumi that Oikawa was scared he’d do any of those things.

 

Iwaizumi shifts in his seat, feeling an actual panic inside him at the thought of messing up this conversation.

 

“I mean, sure, maybe not the whole…” he says, waving his hand in the air as he finds himself unable to form proper sentences and just saying the words as they come out. Despite that, Oikawa’s eyes never pull away from him. “But, you know, don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And he should respect that.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes shut as he lets out a soft exhale, and when he opens them, his face is a mix of relief and gratefulness and something else that Iwaizumi can’t read. He offers Iwaizumi a small smile. “Yeah,” he says, turning away. The blush that had taken over his entire face fades to a soft color on his cheeks. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know if that’s the end of the conversation, but blame it on his weird protective instinct with Oikawa, because it compels him to ask, “But… you’re using protection, right? You’re being safe?”

 

The blush on Oikawa’s face grows redder. “Yeah, of course I do,” he says quickly, looking like he wished the couch could swallow him whole to end the topic. “Stop trying to sound like my mom, Iwa-chan, for real, please.”

 

“Okay,” Iwaizumi says, a short laugh escaping his lips as the tension and nervousness slowly disappear. His hands start to feel normal again so he knows that Oikawa’s starting to relax too.

 

He turns back to the television screen and tries to focus on the movie but there are too many thoughts (of his own) swirling in his head; so many things to process and take in. Oikawa had just come out to him. Oikawa’s just told him he’s also into guys. He had just confessed that he’s never –

 

It hits Iwaizumi that in all of Oikawa’s thoughts of the two of them, he’s always been the one who – well, when they’re together, Oikawa’s always imagined himself as the one… Iwaizumi’s face is on fire as he tries to finish the thought. Oikawa’s admitted he’s never _bottomed_ before but he’s always in that… position whenever he thinks about sex with Iwaizumi. It’s not really the whole position thing that Iwaizumi’s thinking about. It’s given what Oikawa had just said, that he’d only do it with someone he fully trusts – obviously this means he’s the only person Oikawa trusts to ever do it with.

 

And he can’t lie that the thought sends a shiver down his back; that no one else that Oikawa’s been with has been able to make Oikawa fully let go and give his full trust to. He’s the only one who could.

 

Besides that, he also can’t help but think of the timings of all of this.

 

Just as it feels like he and Oikawa are treading across an unspoken, unacknowledged line in their friendship, Oikawa chooses to come out to him and tell him that he also likes guys. Iwaizumi’s face grows even warmer as he figures out what this means.

 

It’s Oikawa telling him that if he wants to, the two of them could cross that line together.

 

And if that doesn’t just slash any doubts he had about what Oikawa feels toward him, he doesn’t know what else would. Now the weight of Oikawa’s feelings settle heavily on his shoulders. He takes a quick glance at his friend, whose eyes are on the screen, but at the same time, looks lost in thought.

 

A few weeks back, Iwaizumi had felt relieved at the thought that the responsibility of deciding where to take their friendship, relationship, _whatever_ wasn’t on him because it’s not like Oikawa was interested in him in that way.

 

But without knowing it, Oikawa had made his intentions clear. Oikawa’s made his move.

 

And now it’s his.

 

– – –

 

One night when practice ends, Iwaizumi’s changing in the locker rooms and he’s so lost in thought that he jumps when the locker beside him slams closed.

 

Higuchi rests his weight against it, his arms crossed in front of him.

 

“So my girlfriend has this friend,” he starts, giving Iwaizumi a nod and wink that means ‘you know what this leads to’. He gives him a wry smile. “I think she’d be your type.”

 

Because Higuchi mentions her, Iwaizumi catches a glimpse of what she looks like through his thoughts. She has a nice smile, her dark hair curled just above her shoulders, and a nose that wrinkles when she laughs.

 

She is pretty, but Iwaizumi only feels uncomfortable at the thought of meeting her. He’s never been one for being setup; he’d much rather have the interaction and getting-to-know-you process be natural and not planned or prepared for. There’s that and… his thoughts trace back to Oikawa. Sure, it’s not like they’re together, and it’s not like anything’s happened, but it doesn’t feel right going out to meet someone knowing his best friend has feelings for him and not doing anything about that first. It doesn’t take a genius to know Oikawa would feel hurt if he found out he was saying yes to being setup for dates.

 

Iwaizumi pushes his locker door closed. “Maybe next time,” he says, shrugging his bag over his shoulder. “I don’t really feel like meeting anyone right now.”

 

Higuchi rolls his eyes and follows after him as they leave the gym.

 

“You need to relax, Iwaizumi,” Higuchi says, clapping him on the back as they walk down the street. “It’s not like it’s a marriage setup. You never know what’s going to happen.”

 

Suddenly Higuchi stops, his hand gripping tightly around Iwaizumi’s shoulder, making Iwaizumi turn around.

 

“What is it – “

 

“Unless it’s because you already have someone else?” Higuchi asks, his eyes wide as the realization dawns on him. “Is that why you don’t talk about going on any dates?”

 

Iwaizumi’s face lights up on fire. He was incredibly grateful for the fact it was evening that it wasn’t obvious.

 

“No, I don’t,” he says quickly, although automatically his mind starts thinking about Oikawa, back in their apartment, probably watching TV and eating junk food or ordering Chinese again.

 

 _What does that mean,_ he ponders to himself. The conclusion is somewhere at the back of his mind, but he leaves it there in the meantime.

 

He shakes his head and pulls his shoulder away from Higuchi, who’s looking at him with narrowed eyes. They continue walking as he replies, “I just don’t like setups. I’d prefer to do things… naturally.”

 

They stop at the last intersection before they part ways. Higuchi rolls his eyes. “Well, okay, fine then.” 

 

As the pedestrian light turns on and they wave their goodbyes, Higuchi pulls out his phone from his pocket and yells, “I’ll be sending you photos of what she looks like! Maybe that’ll have you reconsider!”

 

Iwaizumi waves his hand over his shoulder, tells Higuchi he’ll see him tomorrow, and continues his walk home. As he joins a crowd of people waiting to cross the street, he puts on his earphones and listens to his music to drown everyone’s thoughts on their nightly commute. But when his mind is unoccupied and he lets it wander… it ultimately leads back to the same thing that it’s been thinking about for the past few weeks. Oikawa.

 

It’s a Friday tomorrow, which means Oikawa’s going to head out again to some party and probably meet some new, very attractive guy, or girl, to spend the night with. Iwaizumi’s stomach twists at the thought. But he can’t deny there’s also a guilty pleasure in his gut that he wishes he didn’t feel because he knows that regardless of who Oikawa ends up with that night – the only person Oikawa really does want to be with is him.

 

This is quickly followed with disbelief because he still had no idea how the fuck that happened.

 

Oikawa could have anyone.

 

“But he wants to be with me,” Iwaizumi murmurs to himself as he nears their building.

 

When he opens the door to their apartment, he sees Oikawa sitting on the floor in the living room. He has his glasses on and his laptop is on the coffee table in front of him so he’s probably doing his homework. He looks up as Iwaizumi comes in, and his eyes brighten.

 

“Oh, just in time!” he says, pushing himself up from the floor. “Do you feel like having Chinese for dinner?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Iwaizumi says, toeing off his shoes. He puts his things on the kitchenette counter as he heads to the bedroom to grab clothes for his shower.

 

“Cool, can I use your phone to order?” Oikawa asks, walking toward his things. “Mine’s charging in the room.”

 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says. “The password is – “

 

Oikawa gives him a knowing wink as he picks up his phone from the counter. “I know what it is.”

 

He presses a few buttons and a click goes off as the phone unlocks.

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as he gets his clothes, not even bothering to ask how Oikawa found that one out. He takes a quick shower, and when he opens the bathroom door, he lets out a relaxed sigh as the cool airconditioning brushes over his warm skin. He enjoys the feeling for a few seconds until he senses something off; a small tension he hadn’t felt before he went to the bathroom to take a shower.

 

He glances at Oikawa, who’s back on the floor and typing something on his laptop.

 

“Done ordering?” Iwaizumi asks, drying his hair off with the towel. He walks to their fridge to get some water. “What’d you get?”

 

“Beef and broccoli and stir-fried squid,” Oikawa says. It’s then that Iwaizumi notices that the weird feeling is coming from Oikawa, and that there’s a small frown on his face, his eyebrows narrowed together. It looks like he’s on the edge of saying something but he’s pulling himself back.

 

“Cool,” Iwaizumi murmurs, just to fill in the silence, his towel hanging around his neck. As he takes a gulp of water, Oikawa stops typing and speaks up, finally unable to keep it to himself.

 

“By the way your friend was messaging you while I was using your phone,” he says. “Says it’s the girl he’s setting you up with.”

 

Iwaizumi has to control himself from knocking his head onto the fridge. Of course.

 

Oikawa’s face is impassive but the emotions radiating from him feel otherwise. He continues, “From the photos he sent – she looks pretty. Go for it, Iwa-chan.”

 

It’s so hard for Iwaizumi to control the groan he wants to let out. How could he not have seen that coming when he let Oikawa use his phone. Higuchi _had_ mentioned he’d be sending him photos. He takes a quick glance at Oikawa who’s writing down something on his notebook, and steadfastly not looking at him. Iwaizumi swears at himself under his breath before letting out a sigh. He picks his phone off the counter and unlocks it to see Higuchi’s messages.

 

 **Higuchi:** _Here look_

**Higuchi sent a photo.**

**Higuchi sent a photo.**

**Higuchi sent a photo.**

****

**Higuchi:** _RIGHT AM I RIGHT_

 

 **Higuchi:** _Your type_

 

 **Higuchi:** _Shes funny too_

 

 **Higuchi:** _Anyway let me know by tomorrow!_

 

Well, she is pretty. He looks up from his phone to look at Oikawa and a knot of guilt settles in his stomach as he leans against the countertop. He crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“I told him I wasn’t gonna go through with it,” he says.

 

Oikawa still isn’t looking at him as he asks, “Why not? She’s cute.”

 

 _Because I’m still trying to sort out if I like you back_ , is what Iwaizumi wants to say. And why doesn’t he? It’d probably make everything easier, having everything out in the open for both of them to address. But maybe that’s why Oikawa hasn’t actually said anything about his feelings because as much as he wants to say them, and as much as he knows it’d make things easier, he finds himself unable to let the words out.

 

“I’m… trying to sort things out first,” he finally says.

 

“With what?” Oikawa mutters. “Why? You already have someone else in mind?”

 

He opens his mouth to reply. Yes. No.

 

Noticing the long pause, Oikawa finally turns to look at him and their eyes meet.

 

It’s the most he can do, but it takes all of Iwaizumi’s determination to not pull his eyes away from Oikawa’s as he replies.

 

“Maybe.”

 

He doesn’t know how effectively that gets the message across, and he’s not even sure what he’s trying to say, but judging by the way Oikawa’s eyes widen and his cheeks grow red, maybe it worked. He even lets out a small squeak when the doorbell rings and the delivery man calls out that he’s there. Oikawa occupies himself with getting their orders as Iwaizumi leans against the countertop, the weight in his chest feeling just a bit lighter already.

 

– – –

 

Later that night, Iwaizumi is studying on his bed, his back propped up against his pillow with his reading lamp tilted toward him as he flips through his textbook. He doesn’t know what time it is but it must be late when Oikawa comes into the room, yawning and stretching an arm over his head.  He stops by the doorway and there’s an odd look on his face he looks at his bed for a few seconds before turning his head and walking toward Iwaizumi’s.

 

“Woah, hey – “ Iwaizumi says, shifting to the side as Oikawa crawls over to lie down beside him. Their tiny bedroom is only big enough for tiny beds; beds not meant for two young adult men to share. Now he’s pinned between the wall and his immovable best friend. “What are you doing? Get on your own bed.”

 

Oikawa pulls his glasses off and sets them on the bedside table. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head deeper into Iwaizumi’s pillow.

 

“I don’t want to,” he mumbles, his eyes still shut. “It’s cold.”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the mess of thick, brown hair. “So get another blanket.”

 

Oikawa shakes his head. He even moves to pull Iwaizumi’s blanket over the both of them and settles himself on his side so he’s pressing his forehead against Iwaizumi’s chest.

 

“No,” he mumbles, still resolutely not looking at Iwaizumi’s face. The reading lamp is on the both of them, so when Iwaizumi looks down, he can make out the blush on Oikawa’s cheeks.

 

After years of experience, Iwaizumi is familiar with the exact moment when there’s no point in putting up a fight since Oikawa’s not going to budge. He lets out an exasperated sigh and hooks one arm behind his head while the other hand holds onto his book to try to continue studying.

 

But Oikawa’s so close that instead of paying attention to the words on the pages, Iwaizumi can only seem to focus on the smell of his special, overpriced shampoo, the minty toothpaste he uses when he lets out a soft sigh, and the thrum of comfortable warmth emanating from Oikawa that spills over to him. And when he takes another peek down at Oikawa, he sucks in a quick breath when he sees Oikawa looking up at him, an unreadable look in his brown eyes, his hand clenching the edge of Iwaizumi’s pillow.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says softly, raising his head so they’re at eye level. He moves closer to him, his eyes flicking down to Iwaizumi’s lips before looking back at him.

 

And Iwaizumi doesn’t know how long he’s staring at Oikawa, at the wide, hopeful look in his eyes, at his ridiculously long eyelashes and the shadows they cast on his face, the line of his nose and his lips – and the tip of his tongue that traces over them.

 

_I want to kiss him._

 

The thought jolts through Iwaizumi.

 

Not because it had come from Oikawa.

 

It had come from him.

 

And now Oikawa is leaning closer, just a breath away, and as much as he’s realized he wants to kiss him, there’s now a commotion of other thoughts spilling into Iwaizumi’s mind as the realization takes over. He’s filled with a rational sort of panic to think all of this through one last time instead of being overcome with this sudden urge to hold onto Oikawa’s face and mash his lips against his.

 

Iwaizumi bolts out of the bed, gripping his book tightly to his beating chest as he stumbles onto the floor and gets to his feet. Oikawa sits up and turns around, the blanket pooled over his lap. There’s a high blush in his cheeks and a worried look in his eyes.

 

“I, uh, I really need to study,” Iwaizuimi stammers, quickly stepping back to the door. Oikawa moves to get off his bed but he waves a hand at him. “No, it’s fine – stay there, I’ll just study in the living room.”

 

Oikawa opens his mouth to say something, but closes it back again as a defeated slump settles on his shoulder. The disappointment and dashed hope emanating from him hits Iwaizumi like a truck. Oikawa pulls his knees to his chest and rests his chin atop them.

 

“Okay,” he says softly, as Iwaizumi closes the door behind him.

 

Iwaizumi collapses onto the couch and drops his textbook to the floor as he stares up at the ceiling. He can practically hear his heart beating in his ears.  

 

The weird thing is, as much as it feels like he’s got the wind punched out of him, he knows it’s not that it’s coming as a surprise. It feels like it’s been building up to this for a while, like a pot of water heating up until it boils and spills over. He hasn’t been pushing Oikawa away when he gets extra touchy, he doesn’t like thinking of him hooking up with other people when it’s never bothered him before, his wet dreams have now involved a certain loudmouth brunet when they never had before, and he’s come to look forward to the nights when Oikawa doesn’t go out and chooses to watch mindless television and eat takeout with him (and he noticed they’re happening more frequently).

 

It all makes sense except for the fact this is _Oikawa_. He’s known him for over a decade now and _now_ he realizes that he wants to make out with him and watch stupid alien movies and order pizza together for an indefinite period of time?

 

He takes his phone out and sends a message to Makki and Mattsun.

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _So I’m pretty sure I like Oikawa back._

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _About 97% sure._

 

He drops his phone beside him and there’s a flurry of messages that buzz just seconds after. He grips his head and takes deep breaths to control the beating in his chest. And despite the fact he feels shit scared about what to do now – he can’t deny that there’s a tremor of excitement mixed somewhere in there too as he thinks about what happens next.

 

– – –

 

 **Makki:** _So what’re you gonna do?_

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _Honestly, I have no clue yet._

 

 **Mattsun:** _Fuck, be like, really smooth about it. Please._

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _What?_

 

 **Mattsun:** _You know Oikawa and his need to be the coolest guy in the room._

 

 **Mattsun:** _And to look all composed._

 

 **Mattsun:** _And look like he has all his shit together._

 

 **Makki:** _YES. DESTROY HIM. DESTROY HIM WITH YOUR FEELINGS._

 

 **Mattsun:** _And if you could put all this on Snapchat while you’re confessing to him_

 

 **Mattsun:** _Please do. I want to see Oikawa’s face when you tell him._

 

 **Makki:** _He’d probably cry._

 

 **Mattsun:** _The return of Oikawa’s ugly crying face._

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _Actually, that’s his default crying face._

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _There is no reality with Oikawa looking decent when he’s crying._

 

 **Makki:** _True, true._

 

 **Mattsun:** _That’s why this all needs to be on Snapchat._

 

– – –

 

Oikawa is noticeably distant the next day, leaving early in the morning for a run despite the fact Iwaizumi knew he hated jogging and only went on runs if someone forced him to do so. He had a feeling Oikawa probably just headed to the nearest conbini to eat breakfast alone because he didn’t want to be near him. And when he comes home later that morning with no trace of sweat on him despite being gone for two hours, Iwaizumi knew he was right.

 

“Hey, that movie you wanted to watch is showing,” Iwaizumi starts, looking up from his laptop as Oikawa closes the door behind him. “Wanna watch it?”

 

Oikawa doesn’t look at him as he toes off his shoes. “Oh, is it?” he asks, his voice void of any interest whatsoever when just earlier in the week he had demanded Iwaizumi clear off his Saturday so they could watch it together.

 

“Yeah, let’s watch it.”

 

This time, Oikawa turns to face him, but there’s a tired look in his eyes as he shakes his head. “I don’t want to watch it – “

 

“I’ll pay for everything. My treat.”

 

Oikawa stops, and the internal battle between saying yes and sticking with his decision is so obvious that it makes Iwaizumi want to laugh. He gets off the kitchen stool and walks over to Oikawa and before he can get away, Iwaizumi slings an arm around his head, and a flood of warmth spreads through his body as he ruffles Oikawa’s hair and Oikawa is torn between complaining and laughing at him to stop.

 

Oikawa manages to finally pull his head free and his hair looks like a bird had decided to make it its nest. “Fine,” he says, the corners of his lips quirking up despite the frown he’s trying so hard to put on. He runs his hands through his hair at an attempt to fix it. “Let’s watch it. Only because you’re paying for everything.”

 

“Good,” Iwaizumi says, walking back to shut his laptop off. “Let’s go. I already bought the tickets – movie’s in an hour.”

 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him. “You already bought – “ He huffs, crossing his arms and turning his nose up. “How’d you know I’d even say yes?”

 

Iwaizumi turns toward him, trying to control the smirk on his face.

 

“I had a feeling.”

 

– – –

 

Despite saying yes to the movie, Oikawa is quieter than usual during the walk to the cinemas. It’s noticeable because usually he’d be talking nonstop about all the trailers and interviews and movie reviews he’d already read in preparation for whichever movie they were about to watch.

 

When they get there, Iwaizumi heads to the ticket counter so Oikawa could save a spot in the line for the popcorn. And when he’s done buying the tickets, he heads to Oikawa and stops beside him.

 

“What are you having?” Iwaizumi asks, looking up at the menu displayed on the board. Oikawa’s busy looking at something ahead of them and doesn’t reply. He nudges him with his elbow. “Hello?”

 

Oikawa quickly turns to him, glancing down at the tickets and the wallet in his hand. “Oh, you don’t have to pay everything, Iwa-chan,” he says, reaching for his back pocket for his own wallet. He obviously hadn’t heard the question. “I was just kidding.”

 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, I got it.”

 

Oikawa’s raises an eyebrow again, before shrugging and slipping his wallet back in his pocket. Wondering what Oikawa was busy looking at it, Iwaizumi raises his head to look down the line and notices a young couple a few feet in front of them. The girl is holding onto her boyfriend’s arm, looking up at him as she chooses her order, and he laughs as he pulls his arm away to sling it around her shoulders and pull her close to him. 

 

Beside him, he hears Oikawa let out a soft sigh as he pulls his eyes away and reaches for his phone to busy himself. And when Iwaizumi is pulled into Oikawa’s thoughts, he isn’t even surprised by what he sees.

 

It’s him and Oikawa in the line, exactly as they are now, but he has Oikawa tucked under his arm, like the girl is under her boyfriend’s, and Oikawa lets out a laugh as he presses his face to Iwaizumi’s collarbone and places a soft kiss there.

 

Oikawa rests his chin on Iwaizumi’s shoulder, a smug smile on his face as he asks, “Can we make out during the boring parts?”

 

Iwaizumi looks at him and there’s an actual twinkle in Oikawa’s eyes when he thinks Iwaizumi’s going to say yes, only to disappear when Iwaizumi presses his hand against his face to knock him off his shoulder.

 

“No, I’m paying for these tickets so I want to watch every second of it,” the Iwaizumi in Oikawa’s thoughts says. And Iwaizumi wants to laugh at how accurate Oikawa imagines him to be because he knows that’s exactly what he would say.

 

Oikawa tucks his arm under Iwaizumi’s once more so he can lean against his shoulder. “Fine,” he says, pouting. “During the credits then.”

 

Iwaizumi lets out a laugh as the thought fades and he’s back in the line, Oikawa beside him, but not holding onto his arm and asking to make out with him. He has an eyebrow raised but Iwaizumi quickly clears his throat and looks back up at the menu.

 

“So what are you having?” he quickly asks again.

 

– – –

 

When they get to their seats and settle in, Iwaizumi moves the bucket of popcorn onto his lap. Oikawa hadn’t ordered anything but he knew from experience that by the middle part of the movie, Oikawa would start craving for some and ask to have some of his. Oikawa vehemently denied this behavior despite the fact it happened during nearly every movie they watched together.

 

The trailers are playing and Oikawa is taking a sip of his soda when Iwaizumi nudges his shoulder. “You can get some popcorn if you want,” he says gruffly. “I know you’ll start craving for some in the middle of the movie.”

 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him for the nth time that day that Iwaizumi’s starting to wonder if it’s going to fly off his forehead anytime soon. Oikawa places his soda into the hole of the armrest.

 

“What is this, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, a teasing grin on his face. He reaches over and gets a handful of popcorn and laughs before tossing some of them into his mouth. He then turns back to the screen as he chuckles. “You’re paying for the tickets, the popcorn – it almost feels like a date.”

 

Iwaizumi stares at him.

 

Something inside him tells him that’s his cue.

 

And it is, isn’t it?

 

The trailers finish and the cinema lights dim as the movie starts. Iwaizumi licks his lips and swallows.

 

“It could be.”

 

Beside him, he feels Oikawa tense.

 

Seconds pass and the opening credits start, and a soft white glow comes from the screen so he manages to see Oikawa as he turns to face him, his eyes wide, holding the remaining popcorn limply in his hand. The movie’s already starting, the voice over already giving a background to setup the story, but they’re not paying attention to any of it. Oikawa lowers the popcorn back into its bucket and swallows.

 

“What… what are you saying?” he asks, his voice softer than Iwaizumi’s ever heard it before, but his eyes never leave Iwaizumi’s. “I don’t, I mean – “

 

“I guess I’m… asking you out on a date,” Iwaizumi says, his heart racing despite practicing this in his head at least dozen times already. “While we’re already on it.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes grow even wider. “On… a date?” he repeats numbly. “You mean… this?” He waves his hand between the both of them, then waves it in the air in reference to the movie. “Is a date? You’re asking _me_ out?”

 

Iwaizumi lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I am.”

 

Oikawa swallows, nodding slowly, like he’s trying to process what he’s hearing. “Okay.”

 

Iwaizumi stares at him. “Okay?”

 

“You already paid for my tickets and my food,” Oikawa says, biting his lip to control the smile growing on his face. He even manages to shrug. “I mean, it’d be impolite for me to say no at this point, right?”

 

“Oh, thank you for being so considerate then – “

 

Suddenly, Oikawa leans forward, cutting Iwaizumi off with his lips and nearly knocking the bucket of popcorn off Iwaizumi’s lap in the process. Oikawa’s lips are soft and Iwaizumi can taste the mint chapstick he puts on mixed with the cheese from the popcorn, and when Oikawa pulls away, his eyes are wide, filled with what looks like hope and disbelief mixed at the same time, his breath warm against Iwaizumi’s face.

 

“I know it’s just the first date,” he says, his voice hushed and almost breathless. “And I want to be clear this isn’t me being easy. Because I’m not, well, usually – “

 

Iwaizumi laughs.

 

“But I figured since I’ve known you forever, we could just skip the whole getting to know you part and go straight to the making out bit because I’ve wanted to do that for – “

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Oikawa bites his bottom lip, eyes growing even wider as he settles back in his seat, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. He lifts a hand to press his fingers to his lips, like he can’t believe what he’d just gotten away with doing.

 

“Iwa-chan, I don’t… really know what’s happening right now,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth, shaking with nerves. His eyes start to grow watery. “But I really, really hope you aren’t going to laugh and call me Shittykawa any second now and say this is all just a joke because I don’t think I’ll be able to take it –“

 

“It isn’t.”

 

Oikawa falls silent as he stares at Iwaizumi. He licks his lips once more and finally gives Iwaizumi a smile so wide, so infectious in its happiness and relief that he can’t help but crack a smile back too.

 

“I’m so happy you caught on. I didn’t know how to make it more obvious,” Oikawa says slowly, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I’ve been throwing myself at you for the past few weeks now.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

Oikawa punches his shoulder. “You know, I was _this_ close to just flat out getting in your bed naked and asking you to make out with me. _This_ close.”

 

Iwaizumi colors at the mental image, and the smug smile on Oikawa’s face lets him know this is the exact reaction he wanted him to have.

 

“You could have just said something,” Iwaizumi says.

 

Oikawa looks away, shy. “I was too scared.”

 

He knows what he means. Iwaizumi chuckles. “So you mean it would have been easier to get naked in my bed?”

 

This time it’s Oikawa who colors. “Okay, fine, fine,” he says, a sheepish look in his eyes.

 

“Can we watch the movie now?” Iwaizumi asks, a wry smile on his face.

 

“Yes,” Oikawa says, facing the screen, covering the wide smile on his face with the back of his hand. Iwaizumi chuckles and faces the screen too, and takes a deep breath to calm himself as he starts to process what’s been happening while he wasn’t paying attention. He’s already in the middle of piecing through the bits of dialogue he missed out on when he feels Oikawa slip his hand into his. He twines their fingers together almost tentatively, like he still isn’t sure if he could do this now.

 

Iwaizumi closes his fingers tightly around them, telling him, yes, he definitely can.

 

– – –

 

The movie goes by smoothly – overall it was fun, cool during the action bits, scary in the parts that were supposed to be scary, but altogether unforgettable because as much as Iwaizumi wanted to concentrate on it, with Oikawa beside him, he couldn’t. They hadn’t done anything but watch the movie, but the entire time he could feel the thrum of tension and want and impatience emanating from Oikawa, and maybe even from himself.

 

In fact, after the movie, there’s a giddy tremble of nerves in Iwaizumi’s stomach during the walk home. Their steps are hurried, their hands brushing during the occasional stride, both of them unable to look each other in the eye without a fierce blush overcoming their faces. When they finally get to their apartment, Iwaizumi’s hands are shaking the entire time he slots the key in the knob. When he finally gets it open, Oikawa wastes no time in closing the door behind them and maneuvering Iwaizumi to the couch, pushing him down as he climbs onto his lap.

 

The kiss is hurried and frantic, Iwaizumi tilting his head back as Oikawa parts his lips with his own, Oikawa’s hands making a mess of his hair while his hands travel down Oikawa’s back, down his hips, and over the swell of his ass sheathed by the thin fabric of his sweatpants. It’s the first time they’re ever actually making out, but thanks to being able to peek into Oikawa’s thoughts, Iwaizumi’s pretty confident that he knows what Oikawa likes.

 

“Ahhh,” Oikawa shudders as Iwaizumi hand slips beneath his pants, running over his briefs, and his fingers glancing his hole just above the cotton fabric. Oikawa pulls back, his hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, and a sheen of spit over his red lips, his pupils wide and his hair a mess.

 

Iwaizumi can’t get enough of the sight of him.

 

Oikawa’s shoulders heave as they stare at each other. “This is going too fast, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Iwaizumi looks up at him, his hands settling back on Oikawa’s waist.

 

“Do you want to stop?” he asks slowly.

 

Oikawa stares at him for a few more seconds.

 

“Fuck no.”

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t even have time to smirk before they continue where they left off. Somewhere in the middle of it, Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa’s sweatpants down to the middle of his thighs and he comes to realizes that Oikawa has one hell of an ass because he can’t seem to get enough of squeezing it and he wonders how the hell he did not notice this during the practices when Oikawa was wearing shorts that could barely call themselves that from how high he wore them. A part of him now thinks he was doing it intentionally.

 

There’s a niggling though in the back of his mind, which means Oikawa’s thinking of something, and he gets a brief glimpse into what Oikawa wants to happen next: he wants Iwaizumi to carry him to the bedroom and –

 

Well.

 

So Iwaizumi does just that. He holds Oikawa’s thighs firmly around his waist and when he moves to stand up, Oikawa lets out a squawk as he holds onto Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

 

“Iwa-chan,” he says, his grip tight on Iwaizumi’s back, but the tremor of excitement in his voice is too obvious to hide. “What are you – “

 

Iwaizumi smirks as he walks them to their bedroom. “It’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes widen, his mouth falling to form a small ‘o’ as Iwaizumi drops him onto the mattress. Oikawa makes quick time by pulling off his shirt and his sweatpants and it hits Iwaizumi that while he’s seen Oikawa naked before, in locker rooms, in Oikawa’s sexual fantasies – it’s a whole different thing to have the actual Oikawa naked before him, his thighs splayed out in invitation, just for him.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back a bit. “Okay, you’re gonna have to help me out here.”

 

Oikawa settles back against his elbows. “What do you – “

 

Iwaizumi looks up at him. “I mean, I kind of know what to do, but I’ve never actually – “

 

Oikawa sits up and pulls Iwaizumi’s toward him so he’s resting on top of him. He crosses his arms behind Iwaizumi’s head and looks up at him with such fond affection in his eyes it’s like there’s no one else he’d want to look up at.

 

“I’ll help you out,” he says, a smile on his face as he presses a kiss to the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips.

 

They make out for a little while longer before Oikawa tears himself away to walk toward his bedside drawer. He pulls one of the compartments to take out a small bottle of lube and some condoms. Iwaizumi can only watch as Oikawa sets them beside him on the mattress, but before he joins him back on the bed, Oikawa steps away and stands before him, his hands gripping the side of his briefs before slowly pulling them down. And Iwaizumi can only watch as Oikawa strips naked before him, all lean lines and muscles, his cock standing erect amidst a tuft of dark hair.

 

Oikawa climbs back on top of him, his hands reaching over to touch him, and there’s something really hot about the fact that Oikawa’s completely naked on top of him while he’s still clothed, although they make quick work of that by pulling his shirt off.

 

Slowly, Oikawa turns them over so he lies beneath him, Iwaizumi’s hands on both side of his head.

 

“How do you…” Iwaizumi asks, a fierce blush overcoming his face. “Which way – “

 

At least Oikawa is shy enough to blush too. “I’ve… I’ve always wanted to try…” he pauses, and they both nod when they understand what he’s talking about. “I’ve never done it before because I’ve only ever imagined ever doing that with you.”

 

A deep shudder leaves Iwaizumi. He knows this, but it’s different to have Oikawa tell him.

 

“Okay,” he says slowly, reaching for the bottle of lube beside them. “Okay.”

 

He pulls the cap off and squeezes the liquid onto his fingers, getting a feel of the texture. Beneath him, Oikawa lets out a deep breath as he parts his legs wider and takes Iwaizumi’s hand to lead it between his thighs. He drops his head back as the first of Iwaizumi’s fingers touches his hole, his index and middle finger running just above the rim of clenching muscle.

 

“Okay,” Oikawa says, more to himself as he takes his hand back to get a hold of the mattress. “Now you just have to – “

 

He lets out a choked sob as Iwaizumi slips his middle finger in.

 

“Fuck,” Oikawa swears, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay, okay, shit, okay.”

 

Iwaizumi can hear Oikawa swearing above him, but he’s unable to take his eyes off as his finger slips knuckle deep into Oikawa. When he pulls it out to slip another one back in, Oikawa’s hole clenches around his fingers and it’s so tight he can’t imagine having anything bigger ever fitting in. He takes the bottle and squeezes more lube onto his fingers as he pulls them out and back in, the liquid dripping onto the bed as he continues his thrusts and messily slips a third finger in.

 

“You…” Oikawa breathes, his bare chest heaving as he peeks down at Iwaizumi. His pupils are blown wide as a bead of sweat runs down his cheek. “You have to stretch it…”

 

Iwaizumi nods and does so, Oikawa’s foot kicking reflexively as Iwaizumi scissors his fingers open, stretching the muscle even more until he slips a fourth finger in.

 

He’s taken by surprise when Oikawa’s hand reaches down to hold onto wrist, his fingers still deep inside him.

 

“Are you okay?” Iwaizumi asks hurriedly, afraid he’s hurt him.

 

“It’s okay, I’m ready,” Oikawa says, his shoulders shaking.

 

Nodding, Iwaizumi pulls his hands away, and Oikawa groans at the loss, dropping his head back on the mattress. Iwaizumi wipes his hand on the sheets, reminding himself he’ll have to take it to the laundromat later, then takes the packet of condoms beside them. He stops to pull off his jeans and pauses when Oikawa sits up, his eyes watching him hungrily as he slowly pulls his jeans down, along with his briefs. Oikawa’s eyes never leave him as he strips naked, his eyes traveling down his body, and Iwaizumi can feel the full force of want coming from Oikawa that he feels himself grow even harder.

 

Oikawa takes the condom packet left on the mattress and tears it open, and as Iwaizumi steps closer, Oikawa sits up and takes the condom and slips it over Iwaizumi’s cock, his fingers running over every vein and muscle until Iwaizumi’s cock is fully sheathed with it. Oikawa lets out a deep breath, the weight of Iwaizumi’s cock still in his hand, and he gives it a small squeeze and spares a brief glance up at Iwaizumi before he bends down and takes Iwaizumi in his mouth, wetting him with his spit.

 

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi swears, holding onto Oikawa’s shoulder, feeling the muscle stretch as Oikawa lowers himself down until he feels the tip hit the back of Oikawa’s throat.

 

Oikawa bobs a few more times before he pulls off with a pop, a trail of spit connecting the head to his lips. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks up at Iwaizumi and manages to have a smirk on his face.

 

“Okay,” he says, taking Iwaizumi’s pillow. He rests back and turns over so he’s on his stomach, and realizing what he’s doing, Iwaizumi maneuvers his pillow underneath Oikawa’s hips, propping his ass up in front of him.

 

“Fuck, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi swears again as he runs his hand over the firm muscle and the swell of Oikawa’s cheeks. And he doesn’t even manage to control himself from saying, “Your ass is amazing.”

 

In front of him, Oikawa makes himself comfortable on his knees and takes a quick glance back at Iwaizumi, the smirk still on his face.

 

“And it’s all yours, Hajime,” he breathes, the name sending a jolt of electricity down Iwaizumi’s spine. “Come on, fuck me already.”

 

And Iwaizumi has to visibly control himself as presses himself closer, resting his cock on Oikawa’s lower back, just above the curve of his ass. Beneath him, Oikawa lets out a shuddering breath. He takes a hold of himself and brings his cock lower, and feels Oikawa shiver as he runs the tip over the hole, and he can feel Oikawa instinctively jerk back, as if his body hungrily asking for it.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whimpers.

 

And as always, he’s not immune to succumbing to what Oikawa wants, and Iwaizumi takes a deep breath as he slips the head inside Oikawa, wholely unprepared for the heat and the tightness that meets him. Oikawa lets out a groan and rests his weight on his elbows as Iwaizumi pushes himself in deeper, stopping for a few seconds once in a while so Oikawa can adjust himself around him, and continuing when Oikawa nods. Iwaizumi grips Oikawa’s hips, pulling Oikawa slowly over his cock until Oikawa’s ass is on his balls and he has him up to the hilt.

 

“Shit, it’s tight,” Iwaizumi breathes, bending over Oikawa’s back. He presses a soft kiss at the spot between Oikawa’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Oikawa says, adjusting to Iwaizumi inside him. He takes a deep breath as he moves his hips just so – and swears when he feels Iwaizumi’s cock run just along the sensitive nerves in him. “Okay, okay, go.”

 

Iwaizumi presses one more kiss on Oikawa’s shoulders. He grips Oikawa’s waist as he pulls his hips back, watching his cock pull away slowly from Oikawa’s hole – before slipping it back in. He slowly starts building a rhythm, pulling his hips out and then pulling Oikawa’s hips toward him when he thrusts back in. Soon he’s moving fast enough that Oikawa’s bobbing beneath him, groaning each time he shoves himself down onto Iwaizumi’s cock, feebly gripping onto the sheets so as not so slide over the mattress.

 

“Fuck,” Oikawa swears as Iwaizumi starts perfecting his thrusts and starts hitting that spot in him over and over again. “Fuck, _fuck_ , come on, faster, _come on._ ”

 

Oikawa’s hand lowers down to grip his cock, moving his hand in time with Iwaizumi’s thrusts. And he’s squeezing his eyes shut as he starts to feel the nerves inside him start to build up.

 

“I’m,” Oikawa heaves, his head dropping between his shoulders. “I’m close, I’m – “

 

Iwaizumi is completely unprepared for when Oikawa comes because when he does – the orgasm hits him like his own, the sensation spreading through his entire body, through all of his limbs. And he just wants to ride the high and soak in the feeling that he almost forgets that he’s still balls deep inside Oikawa and actually hasn’t come yet.

 

He thrusts faster, pulling Oikawa’s hips to meet every push.

 

“Come on, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa urges, letting himself be used to get Iwaizumi to come.

 

Iwaizumi lets out a choked sob when he finally does, and he swears to the heavens, thanking every single deity out there for his gift of a mental connection as he’s hit with his own orgasm, not believing his luck as he gets to feel it twice. He bends down over Oikawa’s back as the feeling overcomes him, letting out deep breaths as Oikawa turns his head back to press a sloppy kiss over his lips.

 

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi says, resting his forehead between Oikawa’s shoulders.

 

He pulls out slowly, reaching down to take off the condom and toss it in the nearby bin. Oikawa bites his bottom lip to control the moan at the loss, taking deep breaths to compose himself. Once done, Iwaizumi settles his weight beside Oikawa – but completely misjudges exactly how small the bed is that his elbow slips off the mattress and he lands on his back on the carpet.

 

He lets out a laugh as Oikawa pops his head from the mattress on top of him.

 

“Iwa-chan, are you okay?” he asks, a concerned look on his flushed face, his hair wild and unruly on top of his head, and it only makes Iwaizumi laugh even more.

 

Oikawa smiles down at him and slowly lowers himself to the floor to drape himself over Iwaizumi, their legs tangled together, and his chest against his. Iwaizumi watches him as he does so and can’t take the stupid smile off his face as Oikawa rests his hand against his cheek and tilts his head back to look at him just before leaning down to press a soft kiss on his lips.

 

When Oikawa pulls away, he smiles down at Iwaizumi.

 

“Are we really staying on the floor?” he asks, looking down at the both of them before looking back up at him.

 

Iwaizumi raises his upper body to yank his comforter off his bed and pull it over the both of them. Oikawa laughs as he does so; the real, melodic, carefree laugh that Iwaizumi’s always had a soft spot for, and presses another kiss just over the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips like he can’t get enough.

 

“I guess we are,” Oikawa comments, settling his head on Iwaizumi’s chest.

 

“The bed’s too small,” Iwaizumi mutters. He actually feels betrayed when he feels himself growing drowsy. The human body probably wasn’t made to feel two consecutive orgasms. But despite that, he can’t help but feel he got away with something.

 

“Then we need to get a new, bigger one if we’re going to keep doing this.”

 

He feels the soft intake of breath that Oikawa takes after he speaks, surprised with himself for bringing up the future for the two of them. He even starts to feel the nerves growing inside Oikawa.

 

He thanks his gift again as he raises his hand to run through Oikawa’s hair.

 

“Yeah, we should.”

 

Oikawa glances at him, his eyes warm and full of emotion before smiling and closing his eyes as he rests his head back against Iwaizumi’s chest.

 

– – –

 

 **Makki:** _So how’d it go?_

 

 **Mattsun:** _I didn’t see anything on Snapchat._

 

 **Makki:** _I bet he cried. He did, right?_

 

 **Makki:** _So what happened?_

 

 **Iwaizumi:** _Wouldn’t you like to know????_

 

 **Iwaizumi:** ✿♥‿♥✿

 

 **Makki:** _Oikawa._

 

 **Makki:** _What have you done to Iwaizumi?_

 

 **Mattsun:** _Or._

 

 **Mattsun:** _Shit._

 

 **Mattsun:** _What have you done WITH Iwaizumi?_

 

 **Iwaizumi:** ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

– – –

 

The next day they manage to pry themselves out of the apartment and head out for breakfast, dropping by the usual café near the park. Oikawa being the very physical and handsy person he is, Iwaizumi’s actually surprised when Oikawa chooses to take the seat in front of him instead of sitting beside him in the booth. He’s also surprised to see the small, shy smile on his face as he digs into his pancakes, despite the fact the sweater he’s wearing is too big for him that the hickey on his collarbone from last night is out in the open and for everyone to see.  

 

After breakfast, they take the long way back to their apartment by walking through the park, Oikawa beside him the entire time, their fingers brushing every once in a while. Since it’s already halfway through November, Iwaizumi blows into his hands before stuffing them into the pockets of his jeans. The weather’s nice and cool, they just had a nice breakfast, and he had three rounds with Oikawa last night – but something feels a bit off.

 

He figures it’s the whole awkward morning after thing. He opens his mouth to say something – but stops when Oikawa slips his arm under his, pulling himself close to rest his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder as they walk. And almost instantly, the nerves building in Iwaizumi bleed out and disappear.

 

He sees Oikawa glance at him from behind his glasses.

 

“Why does it feel weird?” Oikawa asks, a small smile on his lips. “I’m so, so happy, but I also feel really weird.”

 

Iwaizumi chuckles, relieved that he’s not the only one feeling off.

 

“I think it’s because we’ve known each other for so long – since we were kids,” Iwaizumi says, kicking a pebble in front of him. He opens his mouth to say something about this being a new phase they have no experience on, but then a mischievous part of him is filled with the urge to see Oikawa blush, so instead he says, “And now I’ve seen you naked and fucked you three ways to Sunday. The _sounds_ you make, Shittykawa.”

 

It gets the desired outcome. A blush takes over Oikawa’s entire face and he lets out a small squeak as he buries his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder to try to conceal it.

 

“So rude, Iwa-chan,” he mumbles into Iwaizumi’s denim jacket, glancing at the children around them playing and on their bikes. “Saying things like that – we’re in the midst of children here.”

 

Iwaizumi laughs. “Oh, and _now_ you decide to start being considerate to other people?”

 

Oikawa grins and there’s a glint in his eyes as he glances at his best friend. “What can I say? I’m feeling well fucked and generous.”

 

Now it’s Iwaizumi’s turn to blush and Oikawa’s turn to laugh at him.

 

And sure, blame it on the cloudless sky, the cool breeze, how Oikawa’s allowed himself to go out in public with sleep lines on his cheeks and unruly hair that falls over his glasses, but Iwaizumi feels happy. Yes, it’s weird, it’s strange, and a part of him still can’t believe what happened the day before was real and not some fantasy he had been privy to, but the warmth of Oikawa at his side tells him that he isn’t making any of it up.

 

He pulls his arm away from Oikawa’s hold to settle it around his shoulders, pulling him close. And Oikawa smiles so widely as he smiles into his shoulder and they’re just looking at each other like two saps out of a movie that Iwaizumi doesn’t notice the kid who’s lost control of his bike and speeding down the hill straight for him, ringing his bell in an attempt to grab his attention.

 

It’s not the nine year old on the bike crashing into him that knocks him out. He just gets a few scratches from that. It’s when he falls and when his head lands on the protruding root of a nearby maple tree that does the trick. And it’s odd because somehow it feels like slow motion as everything happens – Oikawa staring down at him, his hand reaching out to try to grab onto him, the kid flying off his bike a few feet away from them, and just before he passes out, he even manages to think, “Not again” as everything goes dark.

 

– – –

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's wondering - no one's gonna die from getting hit by a bike okay HAHA!
> 
> And for REAL this time, just one chapter to go. And it most probably won't be as long as they usually are. Lemme know what you think!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... wow, six months. Long story short; my job happened. And the only reason I had time to write this is, well, I resigned from that job and have a few weeks break before I start my new one. So yay, it's like I'm a kid on summer break again!
> 
> Also, since it's been a while, to summarize what happened in the last chapter - they finally get together, but Iwaizumi knocks his head again. Or, you know, read through the entire story again to refresh your mind. Because I did! :P

 

– – –

 

 

When Iwaizumi wakes up, the first thing he notices is the sterile white ceiling of what must be a clinic.

 

The second thing he notices is the silence. Everything is… quiet. He can hear the bleeping of the monitor beside him, the cool hum of the airconditioner, and the soft thrum of conversation and footsteps of people outside his room. But that’s it. It’s a stillness he hasn’t heard in a long time; a quiet he hasn’t felt ever since –

 

The door barges open.

 

_“Why are you always getting into accidents like this?”_

 

Oikawa’s face is pulled to a frown as he rushes to Iwaizumi’s bedside. “Head injury! For the second time! Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

 

“Oikawa – “

 

“I had to bring you _and_ the brat who fell off his bike here – “

 

Iwaizumi grips the side of his head. He doesn’t know if the headache is because of the fall or from the noise Oikawa’s making.

 

Probably Oikawa.

 

“Wait – “

 

“And I couldn’t stop thinking, what if you forget everything?” Oikawa lets out a laugh like he knows he sounds absurd, but there’s an anxious edge to it. “That you’d forget about asking me out on a date, about liking me back, and I’d have to go through everything all over again – “

 

Iwaizumi reaches for Oikawa’s hand clenched atop the mattress.

 

“Oikawa, I remember,” he says firmly, which finally gets Oikawa to still as he looks down at his hand in Iwaizumi’s, silencing his fears.

 

Iwaizumi lifts his other hand to cuff Oikawa’s cheek. “Now stop being a drama queen.”

 

Oikawa worries his bottom lip for a few seconds before he throws himself onto Iwaizumi, burying his face in his collarbone. “Then stop making me worry so much, Iwa-chan,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against Iwaizumi’s skin with every word. He pulls back and pouts at him. “It’ll lead to premature aging and I’m too young and beautiful to have wrinkles right now.”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes as Oikawa settles back against him. He lifts his hand and runs it through Oikawa’s thick brown hair. As he does so, he can feel the tense line in Oikawa’s shoulders slowly melt away, and the warm in-and-out of Oikawa’s breathing against his skin helps calm his own nerves. He takes advantage of the rare quiet to take a few deep breaths as he tries to piece together why, despite everything, something feels off.

 

He feels calm, relieved to have Oikawa in his arms, humored by his never failing dramatic tendencies… but oddly enough, he can’t help wonder why… that’s it? He somehow felt like he was expecting, well, he didn’t know what exactly. But something… more? He had prepared for the flurry of emotion from Oikawa to spill over him – the whirlwind of panic, anxiety, then relief – but he feels nothing. It’s just him.

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. His hand stills in Oikawa’s hair.

 

Noticing it, Oikawa pulls back and looks down at him with a worried line in his brow.

 

“Is there something wrong?” he asks.

 

Iwaizumi stares up at him.

 

“Um… no,” he says. He swallows.

 

He looks into Oikawa’s warm brown eyes before he slowly lifts his hand to tuck an unruly strand of Oikawa’s hair behind his ear.

 

“I think… actually… everything’s fine now.”

 

Oikawa’s eyebrows quirk in confusion, until he bends down to press a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. Oikawa pulls his head back and smiles down at him.

 

“Now,” he says softly. “Everything’s better.”

 

 

– – –

 

 

  
Iwaizumi’s suspicions are confirmed when he gets to school the next day. The constant feed of hallway gossip and classroom daydreams that he had come to expect everyday is no more. He sits in his Literature class and all he can hear is the drone of his professor, the bored sighs of his classmates, and the scribbling of his pen on his notebook as he takes down notes.

 

He has to admit, despite the annoyances, knowing what people were thinking wasn’t all that bad. It let him know exactly what to do, what to say, and when to do it. Social skills don’t come naturally to him as it does for most people – like Oikawa – so for a while it felt like he was living with a cheat sheet for social interactions and sticky situations. He’s not above admitting that it came useful at times.

 

He knows he should be happy – and he is. He’s back to ‘normal’. He no longer has to deal with the dull, hornet’s nest of other people’s thoughts for the entire day, nor the occasional stray vision that cuts through his concentration, or having to willfully distract his mind to think of something else when he doesn’t want to see a particular thought.

 

But at he same time, it feels strange. It’s like living with a busted airconditioner for so long and getting used to its noise that when it finally gets fixed, the room feels so much emptier with the quiet. And even stranger is this was how everything was before he knocked his head.

 

 

– – –

 

 

He misses it more than ever in their next game against Meiji University.

 

Keio had taken the first two sets, but Meiji had snatched the third, and now they’re even at 24-24 at the risk of extending to a fifth. Meiji’s coach had switched up his team at the start of the third; their libero now played as their main setter, and most of the starters had been replaced by the second stringers. Suddenly the players they had studied days before the match were no longer on the court, and now they couldn’t read what Meiji’s current team would do.

 

“Shit,” Iwaizumi mutters to himself, watching from the bench. He had been able to play during the first two sets but as the third came and the game got tighter, their coach had pulled the first years off to rely on the older, more experienced players.

 

“Shit is right.”

 

Beside him, Sawamura knees are bobbing up and down with a mix of anxiety and the same urge to get on the court to help out.

 

“They’re using their second stringers to confuse us,” Iwaizumi says, his eyes turning back to the court. He’s watching their libero, and just when he thinks he’s going to set to a particular spiker, he quick sets to another. They score off the block and get the advantage at 25-24.

 

Sawamura glances at him and nods in agreement, watching as Meiji gets into formation. Their serve falls out of bounds to tie them back to 25-all, and after a cross, Keio takes the lead at 26-25. Meiji’s captain quickly calls for a time-out to stop the momentum and Iwaizumi and Sawamura join their team in their huddle, passing the bottles of water to their seniors.

 

“We can’t fucking read them,” one of the middle blockers swears as he wipes the sweat off his brow.

 

“It’s one more point,” their captain, Emoto, yells out, clapping his hands to get their attention. He looks to their setter. “Osugi, slide to Ichikawa…”

 

Iwaizumi listens as their captain starts dictating their final play, and while he knows a slide is a good call – they’ve been doing it already. Meiji probably knows it’s a reliable play they pull in tight situations. He glances at the other side, sees that they’re sticking with their same set of players and juniors, and something in his gut tells him to speak up.

 

“Put us in.”

 

The words come out so fast he doesn’t realize he’s actually said them.

 

The entire team turns to face him. Sawamura’s eyes grow wide as Iwaizumi points at the both of them.

 

“They used their second stringers to confuse us,” Iwaizumi continues, trying his best to control his voice from shaking now that everyone’s attention is on him. “So lets do the same. This late in the game they won’t know what to expect. And that will work for us.”

 

No one says anything until Emoto asks, “And what play?”

 

“Combination – stack play.”

 

One of the other third years laughs. “We’ve been doing that already – “

 

“But not with us,” Sawamura cuts in, all eyes turning to him.

 

Iwaizumi nods. “And I’ll come in from the back row.”

 

This has their captain’s eyebrows rising. The rest of the team fall into discussion but snap to attention as the referee blows the whistle for to resume play. Emoto gives both him and Sawamura one last look before clapping his hands together.

 

“Okay, lets do it.”

 

For a second, Iwaizumi freezes, realizing he hadn’t actually prepared for them to listen to him. He turns to Sawamura, who has an equally stunned look on his face, but they quickly rush to the court when the whistle blows for substitution.

 

Sawamura takes his spot by the net and they exchange a nod as Iwaizumi takes his place at the back. From the corner of his eye he can see members Meiji’s team glancing at them, not expecting the substitution. His eyes meet with Osugi, their setter, and they nod as the whistle blows for Meiji to take their serve. He bends low and holds his hands out to take the receive, and as he watches Meiji’s player step back to take the serve – it suddenly hits him that if he had read this all wrong and they end up losing, their coach probably isn’t going to let him play for the next few games, maybe even the rest of the season.

 

But there’s no time to dwell on it as the ball soars over the net and falls into the arms of their libero.

 

The play starts – their libero takes the ball to the left, exactly where Osugi has his arms stretched out to make the set. Sawamura runs to the center, catching the attention of Meiji’s freshman blockers who follow after him. And when he jumps – they take the bait.

 

They jump with him, and the moment they realized they’ve made a mistake is evident on their faces as their eyes snap from Sawamura who’s falling back to the ground and onto Iwaizumi, who’s leapt from the back zone and smashes the ball down to the empty space the blockers had left open.

 

The crowd roars and the rest of Keio’s team is up in their feet as soon as the ball hits the court, cheering as they’ve won the game. Iwaizumi and Sawamura exchange high fives and their seniors clap them on the back and tell them they’ve done a good job. Iwaizumi’s chest is warm, full with triumph, and it’s hard to keep the smile from his face even as they line up by the net to shake hands with Meiji’s team.

 

As their team heads to the lockers, he takes a few seconds to calm his breathing and the emotions bursting in his chest. He had put himself out there, risked a lot to follow his gut – and won. Sure, it might not be right all the time in the future, but for now, he’s going to enjoy this feeling of being right this time.  

 

The swell of pride in his chest lasts even after getting changed and as he leaves their gym. He waves goodbye to his teammates over his shoulder and he flips his phone open to ask Oikawa what wants for dinner. He decides he’s in a good enough mood to treat him for dinner when he hears someone clear their throat. He looks around and finds Oikawa leaning against the wall, wearing a dark sweater with the hood over his head and dark sunglasses.

 

“Can I just say,” Oikawa says slowly, lowering his sunglasses. “It was so hot when you took over at the end and made that play.”

 

Iwaizumi gives him a flat look. “What are you even wearing?”

 

Oikawa flips the hood back as he walks toward Iwaizumi. “A disguise! I can’t have my mob follow me here and take all the spotlight from you and your team,” he says sweetly. “See how considerate I am?”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “I thought you had review. You didn’t have to come – “

 

“And miss out on seeing _these_ in action?” Oikawa says, rolling the sleeves of Iwaizumi’s shirt back so he could squeeze Iwaizumi’s biceps. He gives him a cheeky wink. “Not a chance. You underestimate me.”

 

Iwaizumi jerks his arms away. “Ugh.”

 

“And besides,” Oikawa says, hooking his arm around Iwaizumi’s and sidling close as they make their way out of the gym. “I’d be a really sucky boyfriend if I didn’t come to cheer for you during your matches.”

 

He doesn’t meant to, but Iwaizumi’s breath catches for a brief second at Oikawa’s words. From the corner of his eye, he sees the way Oikawa’s noticed; from the quick glance he gives him before he laughs softly and launches into another topic like it’s nothing.

 

Boyfriend. They’ve been doing this for just over a week now and it’s the first time either of them’s even acknowledged or labeled it anything. And he knows it shouldn’t be a big deal. They never went around declaring or labeling they were each other’s ‘best friend’ when they, and everyone around them, knew they were. So, really, he shouldn’t be making an issue about this because –

 

Oh, who’s he kidding.

 

It _is_ a big deal.

 

Anti-domesticity and anti-monogamy Oikawa just declared himself as his boyfriend.

 

“Iwa-chan?”

 

He blinks and he sees Oikawa drop the hand he had been waving in front of him. He has a bemused expression on his face as he cocks his head toward the convenience store.

 

“We’ll need to get some muscle cream,” he says. “We’re almost out and you just played so you’re gonna be pretty sore later tonight.”

 

Iwaizumi shakes his head to get his thoughts together.

 

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” he says, following after Oikawa into the store.

 

He picks up a basket by the entrance and as Oikawa walks up the stairs to the second floor, he looks back at him.

 

“And could you buy some condoms?” he calls out, grinning at him. “We’re almost out of that too.”

 

Iwaizumi flushes as he scans the store to see if anyone else had heard Oikawa. When he heads to the correct aisle, he sees one of the store attendants piling items onto the shelf, and judging by how she’s red up to her ears and unable to meet his eyes as she greets him, he deduces she had heard it.

 

He quickly picks up a box and turns to leave the aisle as fast as possible – but not before Oikawa returns, holding the box of muscle cream and sees the box Iwaizumi’s holding.

 

“Just one?” he asks, setting down the muscle cream. He then proceeds to knock two more boxes off the shelf and into Iwaizumi’s basket. “We’ll definitely need more than that!”

 

He turns around to go to another aisle, and Iwaizumi doesn’t miss the way he looks back and gives the store clerk a cheeky wink as he leaves. She lets out a squeak and the poor girl’s face grows even redder and Iwaizumi just wants to leave as fast as possible.

 

“Could you not do that,” he mutters when he catches up to Oikawa at the other aisle. He elbows Oikawa’s side and revels in the squawk he gives. “Have you no concept of shame?”

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighs. “Why be embarrassed? Wouldn’t you want the entire world to know you’re bedding _this_?” he asks, proceeding to motion to himself from head to toe.

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. He stops to pick out a bottle of his shampoo when he feels Oikawa wrap his arms from behind him and rest his chin on his shoulder.

 

“But first thing tomorrow, I’m getting myself tested,” he whispers. “So no need for condoms. _I want to feel all of you.”_

 

Iwaizumi jolts so hard, he nearly lets go of the bottle of shampoo. He spins around, jerking Oikawa off him as he looks around to make sure no one had heard that too.

 

“Fuck, Oikawa,” he breathes, and he knows that Oikawa’s enjoying the flustered look on his face. “Stop saying stuff like that. _Especially_ when we’re in public.”

 

Oikawa giggles and proceeds down the aisle like it’s nothing. Iwaizumi’s eyes trail after him… and he can’t help it. Just like what Oikawa probably wanted, now he’s imagining it, wondering what it’d be like to have sex with nothing separating the two of them, feeling everything. A shiver of lust runs down his spine.

 

He takes another deep breath to calm himself, but then another thought enters his mind. Actually, it’s a niggling thought that’s been at the back of his mind ever since he and Oikawa had started this… thing.

 

He turns around to face Oikawa, who’s reading through the label of a bottle of shampoo.

 

“Oikawa,” he says slowly.

 

Oikawa turns his head to look at him. And he must sense the tone because he places the bottle back on the shelf. “Yeah?”

 

“I know… we haven’t really talked about… you know, all of this,” he starts, awkwardly motioning between them. “And how… we want it to be. Like, if we’re going to make it exclusive or not…”

 

Oikawa’s eyes widen just a fraction.

 

“But, if you’re going to want to do that… I mean, without, um, protection,” Iwaizumi pushes on, but simultaneously wishing the floor could swallow him whole because he completely regrets starting this conversation, here, in public, in the middle of a convenience store. “There can’t be anyone else.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes grow wide, and he stares at Iwaizumi for a few seconds before he turns his eyes away. A small panic starts building inside Iwaizumi. What if he’s asked too much? But then again, is it too much to ask to be exclusive if he wants to do it without condoms? It doesn’t seem like it. But what if Oikawa doesn’t want to stop being exclusive? What if he’s unknowingly ended their relationship in a convenience store?

 

“Hajime.”

 

Iwaizumi looks up at the name.

 

Oikawa finally looks up at him, a small smile on his face. “Now that I’m with you… I don’t want anyone else.”

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen.

 

“Oh.”

 

Oikawa looks away and fiddles with another bottle of shampoo which Iwaizumi knows he won’t get because Oikawa refuses to buy drugstore shampoo. But Oikawa looks steadfastly down at it as he worries his bottom lip, like he’s trying to decide whether to say something else or to stop. He takes a deep breath and lets out a small laugh as he glances up at Iwaizumi.

 

“Does it feel like everything’s going too fast? I guess that’s why you reacted when I called myself your boyfriend a while ago,” he says, a wistful smile on his lips as he rubs the back of his neck. There’s a soft bush on his cheeks as he looks down. “I’m sorry if maybe it made you feel uncomfortable, but I think it’s because… I’ve wanted this for so long – I can’t help myself – ”

 

He suddenly looks up at Iwaizumi, his eyes anxious.

 

“Unless… is it because you still want to see other people – “

 

Iwaizumi shakes his head and reaches over to hold onto Oikawa. And Oikawa’s arms are still at his sides, but his eyes are watching Iwaizumi’s face, waiting for every word.

 

“Oikawa,” he says slowly, keeping Oikawa’s eyes on him. “Of course I want this with you. And only you.”

 

The relief in Oikawa’s eyes is so obvious, Iwaizumi instantly feels guilty that he had made him think otherwise. He swallows. “I just… didn’t want to make you feel like you were changing everything just for me – “

 

“But I would though,” Oikawa says, like it’s a simple decision. “You’re it for me, Iwa-chan.”

 

Iwaizumi still doesn’t know how Oikawa manages to declare these things so easily. Oikawa raises his hands and sets them over Iwaizumi’s. He runs his thumb over the back of his hand, the small smile still on his face.

 

“I think everyone could see the only reason I was sleeping around was to look for someone that could give me all the things I wanted from you,” he gives a small chuckle. “Well, everyone except you, I guess.”

 

He raises his eyes to Iwaizumi and smiles. “But now that I have you, I don’t want anyone else.”

 

Iwaizumi wants to say something profound. He wants to say something as good and meaningful as everything Oikawa’s said; to make him feel as warm and happy as he is feels now.

 

But ultimately the only thing he can say is a breathy, shell-shocked, “Fuck, Oikawa.”

 

Oikawa laughs as Iwaizumi pulls his hands back to run them through his hair. “What can I say after… after all of that?” he asks, completely at a loss. “I’m… damn, how do you do words?”

 

“Well,” Oikawa tilts his head to the side. “I’d like if you could at least say you feel the same way…?”

 

Iwaizumi nods stupidly. “Yes, yes, of course I do – “

 

Oikawa wraps his arms around him and buries his head against his collarbone. “Then I’m okay with that,” he mumbles against his neck. He pulls his head back to smile at Iwaizumi and gently runs a hand through his spiky hair. “I know you’re trying to think of something nice to say back, but it’s okay, not all of us have a gift with words.”

 

Iwaizumi nods. “Thanks, Oikawa.”

 

Oikawa then gives Iwaizumi a sheepish look. “On the topic of changing myself, I guess I’ll try to be a nicer person, in general, too. But no promises on that because I don’t think I have it in me to be that nice of a person – “

 

Iwaizumi laughs and tightens his hold around Oikawa’s back. “I know. You’re too much of an asshole to be a nice person.”

 

Oikawa pouts as he pokes Iwaizumi in the ribs. “Well, I’m the asshole you’re sleeping with and that’s _also_ your boyfriend – so what does that say about you?”

 

“That I’ve got shitty taste,” Iwaizumi mutters, which makes Oikawa balk. He pulls away and leaves him behind as he heads for the counter. “Come on, lets pay for these and go home.”

 

 

– – –

 

 

No, Iwaizumi takes it back.

 

After wasting thirty minutes of his life asking each other what they want for dinner, only to end up with instant ramen back in their apartment, he really wishes he could read minds again.

 

 

– – –

 

 

A few days later, it’s close to midnight and Iwaizumi’s sitting on the floor of their living room, his books and notebooks sprawled over the tiny coffee table as he crams an essay he had a week’s lead time to finish. He stares at his progress, or rather, the lack of it, for a few seconds before he knocks his head against the table and groans. He’s cursing his stupidity when he hears the door lock turn and looks up as Oikawa calls out that he’s home.

 

“Hey,” he says, setting his pen down as Oikawa toes off his shoes by the entryway.

 

“Hey,” Oikawa says back, dropping his bag to the floor. He had texted earlier that practice would end late since they had a game this weekend. He walks over to Iwaizumi and slumps beside him, resting his chin on his shoulder. “What a long day.”

 

He lifts his hand to brush back some of Iwaizumi’s hair. “How’s your head by the way?”

 

Iwaizumi sighs, closing his eyes as he enjoys the feeling of Oikawa’s fingers running over his scalp.

 

“It’s been a week, Oikawa. It’s fine.”

 

Oikawa chuckles, dropping his hand and wrapping it around Iwaizumi’s waist as he nuzzles his shoulder. “I’d still like if you iced it,” he mumbles. “Just in case.”

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know if there’s some lingering effects of his mind reading, or maybe he can actually chalk it up to the years of spending time around Oikawa, but something about the tiredness in Oikawa’s face, and in fact, his overall demeanor ever since he arrived, sets off one of the smaller there’s-something-up-with-Oikawa bells in his mind. He cranes his head back as much as he can with Oikawa latched onto his side.

 

“Hey,” he starts. “Are you okay?”

 

The fact it takes Oikawa a few seconds to answer confirms his suspicions.

 

“Nothing, I’m just tired,” he replies, his forehead still pressed against Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

 

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi muses to himself, taking the time to look over at Oikawa. He isn’t wearing his knee brace, so that’s good, it doesn’t look like he’s hurt in any way, his eyes travel up to Oikawa’s arms around his waist – and spots the bandaged wrist.

 

“Hey, Shittykawa,” he says, shaking Oikawa’s head off his shoulder. He turns around and holds onto Oikawa’s elbow before he can pull his arm away. “What happened to your wrist?”

 

Oikawa visibly winces at the glare Iwaizumi fixes on him. “It’s no big deal, Iwa-chan – “

 

Once again, that sounds awfully familiar.

 

“Is that why you got home late? Don’t tell me you’re pulling the same high school, late night practice shit – “

 

Oikawa pulls his arm away from Iwaizumi’s hold and raises his hands in the air. “Okay, lets just drop it,” he says, getting to his feet. His voice is calm, but it’s obvious that he’s trying not to raise it. “I really don’t want to be having an argument this late at night.”

 

Iwaizumi stares up at him from the floor. “Why, Oikawa?” he pushes, his eyebrows drawing together. “We’ve talked about this _so many times_ , I don’t understand – “

 

Oikawa turns around and glares down at him.

 

“Of course you wouldn’t. You chose to study somewhere else, so get used to not knowing everything that’s happening to me.” 

 

His eyes widen as soon as he finishes saying it.

 

Iwaizumi is still in a loss of words as Oikawa turns his face away and swears under his breath.

 

It’s been over two weeks since he’s lost his mind reading ability and he’s gotten pretty much used to living again without it – but what he would give to get a glimpse of what the heck happened to Oikawa to get into this mood so he could know what to do to get them to stop arguing. Knowing himself, he’s probably going to say the wrong thing and they’re going to end up yelling at each other.

 

He pauses. But that’s life is, isn’t it? There is no guide; you do what you think is best, you stumble along, and sometimes there are tough times you have no idea how to get out of, sometimes you say stupid things, maybe even the wrong thing, but you grow and learn from them. He’s managed to do that for his entire life and despite his mistakes and bumbling, and general lack of social skills, somehow, he’s managed to stay as Oikawa’s best friend and even get him to fall in love with him. So maybe he hasn’t been doing so bad on his own.

 

“So tell me.”

 

He gets up from the floor and walks over to Oikawa, who’s still unable to look at him in the eye.

 

“Tell me what happened,” Iwaizumi repeats, setting his hands on Oikawa’s waist. When he still doesn’t look up, he takes his chin in his hand and gently turns Oikawa’s face to him. “Let me know how I can help.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes steadily grow watery until he wraps his arms around Iwaizumi’s back and buries his head in his chest.

 

“Coach is having me sit out the game this weekend,” he says, his voice anxious. “He’s letting another freshman setter start.”

 

Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa deeper into his arms as he sighs. He understands why Oikawa’s worried, but like he always does, he’s probably making it a bigger deal than it is.

 

“Shittykawa, it’s the start of the season, so of course he’s experimenting with the chemistry and rotations – “

 

“But that’s how it starts,” Oikawa says, obviously trying to control the frustration in his voice, like Iwaizumi isn’t helping. He pulls away from him and walks over to the kitchen, his fists clenched on the counter top. “You sit out one game, then it’s another, then another, then next thing you know you’re a sub for the entire season. I’ve been here before, Iwa-chan – “

 

“No, you haven’t,” Iwaizumi cuts him short. Oikawa turns to him, ready to snap that he was present during their entire middle school so he should know what he’s talking about. But Iwaizumi continues, “This isn’t middle school. There is no Kageyama. This is a new school with a new team. Everything is different from how it was before.”

 

Oikawa looks away, gnawing his bottom lip, his fist clenched tightly by his side.

 

“Don’t…” Iwaizumi pauses, trying to string the words together in the best way he can. “Don’t let the past… pull you down. It doesn’t mean anything now.”

 

He shakes his head. “And you know what, let them play without you so they know how big of a mistake it was not to have you start.”

 

Oikawa doesn’t say anything for a long time. He doesn’t even look up. But slowly he turns around and Iwaizumi watches as he opens the freezer and takes out one of their ice packs. Iwaizumi takes a seat on the couch as Oikawa joins him, folding his legs under him as he leans forward and presses the ice pack to Iwaizumi’s forehead.

 

“Ice it, please,” he mumbles, his eyes still cast downward. “For my peace of mind.”

 

Knowing an apology when he sees one, Iwaizumi follows, taking the ice pack from him, his fingers brushing against Oikawa’s as he does so. Oikawa’s hands fall to his lap as he turns his face away.

 

“I take back what I said earlier,” he says softly. “It was really selfish, and I really am over the fact you go to another school.”

 

Iwaizumi lifts the ice pack from his face so he can raise an eyebrow at Oikawa.

 

Oikawa huffs and crosses his arms. “Okay, so _maybe_ I still get bitter at the fact you _deliberately_ chose not to be with me,” he says, turning to Iwaizumi to give him a pout. “But I _am_ pushing myself to be supportive, okay?”

 

Iwaizumi snorts as he hooks his arm around Oikawa’s neck to mash the ice pack against his face. “I really don’t expect anything else from you, Shittykawa,” he laughs as Oikawa shrieks at the cold and tries to pull his head from his grip.

 

When he finally manages to pry his head loose, Oikawa’s hair is a mess and half his face is wet and he glares at Iwaizumi. “You’re such a brute, Iwa-chan! Neanderthal! Why do I even _like_ you?”

 

Iwaizumi laughs and presses the ice pack back to his forehead. He slumps back down on the floor to continue writing his essay.

 

“I have no idea,” he says, picking up his pen with his free hand. “You tell me.”

 

Oikawa watches him from the couch and brings his knees up to his chest so he can rest his chin on them. A few seconds pass before he clears his throat. “I got my test results, by the way,” he starts.

 

Iwaizumi pauses and turns his head to look at him as Oikawa grins. “I’m clean.”

 

And instantly, like any young man, Iwaizumi’s thoughts lead to sex, but then any sort of heat that ignites is quickly smushed by the guilt of this essay looming over him.

 

“Yeah, not in the mood right now,” Iwaizumi lies, turning back to his essay, brushing off the growing lust in him. “I need to finish this.”

 

Oikawa balks at his less than excited reaction like he’s insulted.

 

“Hmph,” he pouts, getting up from the couch to take a shower. “Fine, I’ll let you finish that tonight – but tomorrow I’m jumping you.”

 

Oikawa shuts the bathroom door behind him, and now that he’s all alone, Iwaizumi drops his head to the table and wishes for the second time that night that he had finished his essay on time.

 

It’s close to 2AM when he finally finishes, and when he gets to their room he finds Oikawa lying on the make-shift mattress they had made on the floor. They’ve been sharing beds ever since they got together, sometimes on Oikawa’s, sometimes on his, but their tiny singles were too small for their ‘late night activities’ so while they saved up money to buy a mattress big enough for the both of them, in the meantime they piled their comforters and pillows on the carpeted floor. And that’s where he finds Oikawa, fast asleep with his head sticking out from the blanket.

 

Iwaizumi quietly pulls out some clothes and takes a quick shower. When he’s finished changing, he lowers himself onto the floor and crawls to join Oikawa. As he pulls the blanket back, he lets out a soft groan to see that Oikawa’s sleeping naked again, most likely intentionally to spite him for not taking the hint earlier, because he’s a little shit like that.

 

He takes the space behind him, careful not to touch him to wake him up, but it’s like Oikawa can sense him in his sleep because, with his eyes closed, he shuffles closer to him so he could bury his head deeper in Iwaizumi’s warm chest.

 

“Mmm,” he muses, his arms wrapping around Iwaizumi’s waist as sleep falls on the both of them.

 

 

– – –

 

 

Iwaizumi isn’t sure what time it is, but it’s still dark when his eyes open, woken up by the throbbing ache in his groin. When he looks down, he bites back a groan when he sees the tent at the front of his boxers. Oh, the betrayal. And sometime in the middle of the night, Oikawa must have turned over to his other side, his back now against Iwaizumi’s chest, and now the hard line of Iwaizumi’s cock is slotted perfectly against the curve of Oikawa’s ass.

 

He sneaks a glance at Oikawa, and while he can’t see his face, he figures he must still be asleep from the soft, consistent rise and fall in his shoulders as he breathes. Slowly, he tries to peel himself off Oikawa to fix this problem by himself in the bathroom, but as he inches himself away, Oikawa lets out a soft groan in his sleep and presses himself back across the empty space Iwaizumi had just vacated. And Iwaizumi isn’t able to control the moan any more when his hips instinctively jerk and his cock brushes against the cleft of Oikawa’s ass once more, the tip brushing just above Oikawa’s hole from behind his boxers.

 

There’s no possible way Oikawa’s still asleep after that, and it’s obvious he isn’t. Iwaizumi sees it in the way his shoulders still. His breath is in his throat as he watches Oikawa pull one hand behind himself to have it trail down Iwaizumi’s stomach and stop over the tent in his boxers to feel his hard-on. He presses down on it, the heel of his hand rubbing over the head and Iwaizumi lets out another groan.

 

Oikawa lets out a chuckle as he uses his free hand to check on his phone beside him. “Well, it’s 4:28AM,” he says, putting his phone down and reaching over to his bedside table to take the small bottle of lube. He looks over his shoulder with a smirk as he hands the bottle of lube to Iwaizumi. “Technically, it’s morning already.”

 

Iwaizumi wants to say no, citing that he’s running on two hours of sleep, but as Oikawa pulls the blanket off him to expose the rest of his naked body, he finds himself wasting no time flicking the cap off and pouring the gel over his fingers. Oikawa settles back on his side, his back still facing Iwaizumi, and he sucks in a sharp inhale as Iwaizumi’s fingers trail down his bare back and slip between his legs, breaching him with one finger first. He lifts his thigh and parts his legs wider as Iwaizumi slowly loosens him up, his finger a slow, aching slide in and out of him before slipping one after the other until Oikawa is loose for him.

 

Iwaizumi pulls down his boxers, tossing them behind him as he presses his hips closer to Oikawa’s, one hand holding onto Oikawa’s thigh to keep him spread while the other holds onto his cock as he lines it up to Oikawa’s entrance – and Oikawa lets out a haggard breath when Iwaizumi slips inside him, easing deeper and deeper and holding his thigh until he’s fully inside him.

 

Iwaizumi settles his hand on Oikawa’s waist as he bends down to press a kiss at the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Okay?” he asks softly.

 

Oikawa’s hand meets Iwaizumi’s, gripping it tightly as he nods, wriggling his hips to get used to the girth of Iwaizumi inside him. “Yes, yes, okay,” he huffs.

 

Iwaizumi presses another kiss behind his neck as he slowly begins to move his hips, enjoying the slick friction, the heat of Oikawa around him, pulling his hips back and snapping forward, making Oikawa toss his head back on his shoulder and letting out a groan like he’s been punched in the gut. He picks up his speed, thrusting deeper into Oikawa each time that Oikawa tosses his leg back over his hip, spreading himself wider and pulling Iwaizumi’s cock into each thrust.

 

“Yeah, like that,” Oikawa breathes, biting his bottom lip. “Please, _Hajime_ , right there, _yes_.”

 

Iwaizumi fixes his hold on Oikawa’s thigh, spreading him wider, his forehead pressed against Oikawa’s neck as he looks down at his cock, covered in lube and pre-cum, pistoning in and out of Oikawa, nothing separating them. His body grows hotter at the thought, and he’s starting to feel close, his breath growing short, when Oikawa lowers his hand over his.

 

“Wait, wait, Iwa-chan,” he breathes, a whine in the back of his throat as Iwaizumi slows his thrust, despite asking him to do so.

 

Iwaizumi looks up at him. “Why? What’s wrong – “

 

Oikawa’s chest heaves and Iwaizumi can only admire his flexibility as he keeps Iwaizumi inside him as he turns his head back to press a sloppy kiss over Iwaizumi’s lips.

 

“I want to see you,” he breathes, sparing a small glance up at Iwaizumi before pulling his eyes away as a shy blush envelops his face. “Can we, um – “

 

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen, understanding what he means. He pulls out of Oikawa, battling a shiver as the cool air wafts over his dick after spending so long in Oikawa’s tight heat. He watches as Oikawa settles his back onto the mattress, groaning at the sight of the lube and his cum trailing down Oikawa’s thighs as he spreads them, inviting him back in. Iwaizumi brings a finger down trace the glistening ring of muscle, his throat growing dry as his thumb slips in so easily.

 

“Fuck,” he breathes, settling himself back between Oikawa’s legs, holding his cock and watching as the muscle of Oikawa’s hole take it in, like it’s hungry to be filled. He soon slots himself back in Oikawa, and he revels in the sight of Oikawa tossing his head back against the pillow as he does so, leaving his throat open for Iwaizumi to lick a stripe and bite into.

 

Oikawa’s arms wrap around his back, his hand in Iwaizumi’s wear as he presses his lips against Iwaizumi as he thrusts, a sloppy exchange of breaths and saliva as he squeezes his eyes shut.

 

“Yes, yes,” he breathes into Iwaizumi’s mouth. “Faster, Iwa-chan, _please._ ”

 

And as he’s thrusting up into Oikawa’s tight heat, it dawns on Iwaizumi that while they’ve already done this numerous times – this is the first time he’s feeling Oikawa _completely_. He basks in the fact that this moment is theirs, shared in the most literal and basest of ways – the closest they’ll ever be.

 

“Oh, oh, _fuck,_ that’s it, Hajime,” Oikawa gasps, his nails clawing against Iwaizumi’s back as he thrusts into him. “Fuck me hard, fill me up _, I want to be full of you_.”

 

He pulls his hips back and thrusts deeper into Oikawa, chasing that high as it coils deep inside him, rising and rising until he comes – spilling deep into that tight heat, in Oikawa.

 

Oikawa feels it when Iwaizumi comes in him, filling himself up in the best way, and he squeezes his eyes shut and wraps his legs tighter around Iwaizumi’s waist as he comes soon after, spurting over his and Iwaizumi’s stomachs.

 

Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa even closer to him as he drops his head onto his shoulder, taking a few seconds as the rush of endorphins and emotions takes over him. He feels Oikawa press a tender kiss to his face, his eyelashes brushing over his cheek, his fingers combing through his dark hair. When he pulls his head back, Oikawa is smiling up at him – one of those rare, open smiles that he realizes only he gets to see.

 

“Still with me?” Oikawa asks, a fondness in eyes that fills Iwaizumi with more warmth he didn’t know he could feel after everything.

 

Iwaizumi finds himself unable to think of something nice to say – so he goes with his default reaction. He takes a peek down at their lower bodies and looks back up at Oikawa with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Still in you.”

 

This lets out his desired reaction – a fierce blush overcomes Oikawa’s face before he tosses his head back to laugh and give Iwaizumi a small shove on his shoulders.  

 

“Such an animal, Iwa-chan,” he giggles.

 

Smirking, Iwaizumi jerks his hips in retaliation – and Oikawa lets out a sharp gasp. Iwaizumi pulls out just in time to avoid another shove on his shoulder, and flops onto his back beside Oikawa.  And like a cat clinging to warmth, Oikawa sidles up close to him, resting his chin on Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he throws an arm over his chest.

 

“You tire me out, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi mutters, turning over to his side. He lifts his arm, which Oikawa takes as his opportunity to bury himself deeper into Iwaizumi’s chest.

 

“As long as you never get tired of me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sing-songs. And Iwaizumi chuckles as he slowly drifts to sleep.

 

 

– – –

 

 

Iwaizumi wakes up to the sound of the bedroom door closing. When he opens his eyes, Oikawa is walking back to their mattress, still completely naked, the sunlight pouring over his muscles and the long lines of his legs. Iwaizumi still can’t believe he’s all his.

 

Oikawa’s holding onto a wet towel as he wipes it over his stomach, cleaning up after last night. He crawls back beside him, the comforter dipping under his knees and settles back beside Iwaizumi to wipe his stomach clean, and being very professional as he does the same to his soft cock.

 

“Mmmm,” Iwaizumi mumbles, closing his eyes, exhaling softly from his nose.

 

Oikawa settles back against his chest, then looks up at him, watching him for a few seconds.

 

“Iwa-chan.”

 

Iwaizumi lifts one eyelid to look down at him. “Yeah?”

 

Oikawa swallows. Slowly, he asks, “When did you… when did you realize?”

 

It must mean something that he knows exactly what Oikawa’s asking despite him being very vague. Iwaizumi pauses to think about it. “I think I’ve… had a feeling for months now,” he says. “But… I really only put everything together… a few weeks ago. The day before we went out for the movie.”

 

Oikawa’s eyes widen. Then he laughs. “A few weeks ago?” he tilts his head back and laughs even more. “I’ve wanted to be with you for _years_ , and you figure it out _a few weeks ago._ ”

 

The mood is light and Oikawa’s laughing, but Iwaizumi can’t help but feel guilty about it.

 

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 

And it’s true. Oikawa’s felt that way for years, and thanks to his ability, he’d known for months, but it took him that long to finally figure out himself and what to do about it.

 

Oikawa sits up on his elbow and looks down at him, his eyes bright.

 

“It’s okay. You were always the slow one,” he says, the smile on his face growing. “At least you’ve finally caught up.”

 

As Oikawa kisses him, he realizes how Oikawa’s right, how he’s always been a few steps ahead of him. What Oikawa’s known for years, Iwaizumi needed a knock to the head and supernatural powers to find out for himself.

 

You don’t need to be a mind reader to know when you’re in love.

 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, smiling up at him. “I’m glad I did.”

 

 

– – – 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's done. 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who've read this story, to those that have stuck around since I started this, especially to those who've been kind enough to drop a note. It's been so hard to find the time and the focus to write ever since I started working and reading all those messages meant so much. It really made me miss writing and the whole feel of the community. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! :)


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